


The Fallout

by Sinshipsahoy



Series: Points Of View Series [2]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, batfam - Fandom
Genre: Angst, Bruce is weird af, Drama, M/M, Pseudo-Incest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-24
Updated: 2020-06-27
Packaged: 2020-07-12 11:48:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 23,788
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19945681
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinshipsahoy/pseuds/Sinshipsahoy
Summary: Bruce and Dick have come to terms with the nature of their feelings toward each other, and established their relationship. However, they now have to come to terms with everyone else.





	1. Alfred and Robins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Tim is Violet Parr

Bruce knew from jump they couldn’t keep things a secret forever. It was never a question of staying hidden, only of how to reveal the truth. He and Dick had settled into their romantic relationship about a month ago. Really, it wasn’t such a dramatic shift to him. It felt more like the completion of a story- one that’d been in the making for over a decade. As such, he felt it appropriate to break the news first to the man who’d been there since chapter one.

“Alfred.”

They were alone in the parlor. The butler paused with his dusting to look at his ward. “Yes?”

A slight shift. “We have to talk.”

Visible discomfort. That was unusual.

Alfred set his cleaning supplies down and sat in the armchair closest Bruce. If his current suspicions were correct- well, let’s hope they weren’t.

“Is it something I don’t already know?”

“I’d be surprised if you didn’t.”

In another situation, the response might’ve held humor. The old man sighed and hung his head, slouching in an uncharacteristic break of decorum. Silence hung the air for a long while before Alfred took his handkerchief and wiped a tear from his eye, filling Bruce with a newfound shame. Alfred hadn’t cried in front of him since-

“What would your parents think?”

The question hit hard. In truth, Bruce had often wondered what his parents- his father, especially- would think about his sexuality. As soon as he realized what he was he felt he had to hide it. He’d never even told Alfred he was attracted to men. It was just another unspoken truth held between them. Alfred wasn’t referencing his sexual preference, but his particular choice of partner. Bruce bit his cheek.

“My parents have been dead for forty years.”

“Forty-one.”

“I _know_ ,” he flared, “But I don’t care about them.”

A lie. Everything he’d become was on their behalf, _of course_ he cared. He’d never once done something he thought would disgrace them. Until now, anyway.

“Right,” Alfred conceded, “So what about the others?”

“They’re not my priority either,” Bruce’s sighed, “You are.” He took a small breath. “Alfred...”

No one would’ve noticed the lip tremble, or the tremor in his voice- except the man who taught him how to hide such things. Suddenly, Bruce wasn’t a grown man seeking a blessing, but a little boy looking for approval.

Alfred’s little boy.

“Are... are you happy?”

“More than ever.”

Alfred took a shaky breath.

“Then I am, too.”

The two came in for a hug. They were hardly ever this open and affectionate with each other, but it felt warranted. Still, not one to indulge in such things, Alfred pulled back.

“I decided a long time ago to support you no matter what,” he explained, “I still feel strange about all this-“

“I know, I-“

“-But I’m not going anywhere.”

The older man let a small smile slip, which he was pleased to have mirrored by Bruce. Again, it was short lived. “Now, with regard to the boys...Bruce, it’ll tear them apart.”

The younger man sat back with a grim expression. They knew that from jump, too.

———————

It was decided Dick would break the news to Tim and Damian. He’d debated on whether to tell them separate or together, but ultimately went with the latter. Getting them in the same room was hard enough, but at least when shit hit the fan, he’d only have to go through it once. Well, twice- still had to tell Jason, after all. Or would it still count as three? Whatever.

As Tim and Damian sat in front of him, Dick realized he had no clue how to approach this. All the rough drafts he’d come up with in his head vanished as reality set in. How was he going to make them understand that what he and Bruce was good, and real?

“So,” he started with false confidence and a clap, “About me and Bruce.”

Tim stared in confusion. “Yeah?”

“Um,” he answered, immediately deflated.

“Hurry up, Grayson,” Damian interjected, boredom already lacing his tone, “I don’t have all day.”

Dick heaved a heavy sigh and sat down on the table in front of them. It put him at their level, with a comfortable distance.

“Bruce and I...” he tried again.

There really was no way to say this, huh?

“Bruce and I are together.”

Dick winced. There was definitely a better way to say that. Tim’s confusion only deepened but Damian was now fully intrigued.

“What?”

“Yeah. It started- well I mean, it started a while ago, but-“

“ _What_?”

Dick halted his rambling to look at Tim. He was hearing Dick, just not comprehending his words. For all his brilliance, Tim had the sort of face where you could see the dots connect in his head, and Dick observed the exact moment it clicked.

“Ro...mantically?”

Dick felt nauseous. This was the calm before the storm, he knew.

“Yes, Timmy.”

And there it was: the moment Tim snapped.

“What the _fuck_?” Tim shouted, jumping to his feet. Dick flinched and stood up, too. Christ, why did Bruce think he could do this?

“Tell me you’re joking.”

Dick shook his head. “Tim, I-“

He was cut off by a scream of frustration as Tim pulled his hair and fell to his knees. Dick went immediately to retrieve him, but the boy flinched back at his touch. “Don’t fuck- get _off_!”

Tim’s face was red, and angry tears were already streaming down his face. He choked and sputtered when he spoke, but managed to be absolutely scathing. Tim was on his feet again, and gripped himself tightly.

“Just-just _why_? What the fuck!”

Tim wasn’t really going accept any answers, and Dick knew that. He wanted to cry. He wanted to say something, anything to have his little brother calm down. Instead, he stood in silence while Tim shuddered and sobbed. Damian was the first one to speak.

“I think it’s normal-“ And just like that, Tim went off again.

“Normal? What _you_ know about normal? What does _anybody_ in this family know about _normal_?”

If there was a worse time for Bruce to walk in, Dick didn’t know. Yet there he was, strolling into the sitting room with Alfred in toe. Tim’s eyes immediately darted to the pair, positively filled with hate. Bruce stopped short. “So he told you.”

That infuriating monotone was not the way to handle this, and Dick shot him a look.

“You fucking pervert.” Tim spat.

“Tim-“

“Don’t- just- how _could_ you?”

Bruce’s eyebrow twitched. “Tim, you need to understand-“

“What the fuck _don’t_ I understand?”

Oh, here we go.

“What?” Tim continued, “That you groomed him, fucking brainwashed him into wanting you? Were we next, you fucking-“

“Get out.”

And just like that, the room was quiet. Tim’s chest was heaving, after having what was no doubt the worst breakdown of his life. Bruce might as well have been in the batsuit. His giant fists were balled, his whole body completely tense and his eyes turned to ice. Tim, tear stained and thin lipped, didn’t even flinch.

He made his way to the door, making a point to push past Bruce on the way out. The air was heavy has Tim could be heard gathering his things. It seemed amazing that a person of such a small frame could have a such heavy footsteps, but his path down the stairs reverberated through the walls, punctuated by the deafening sound of the manor’s door being pulled shut.

And there it was. The family torn apart.


	2. Red Hood

Alfred was the first to recover after Tim left. 

“I’ll get dinner started,” he said, excusing himself. 

Bruce took the opportunity to address his remaining son, who still sat on the couch in front of them. 

“And you?” It was half inquiry, half threat. Dick hit him lightly, hissing his name under his breath. 

Damian was undeterred, and merely sneered, “Anyone with half a braincell would know you two were into each other.”

The kid had a point. It wasn’t like Dick had ever stifled his affection for Bruce, but instead disguised it as being akin to a father/son bond. Still, clearing the air felt warranted. 

“Fair enough,” Dick relented, “but how do you feel about all this?”

A shrug. “Doesn’t matter.”

“Well, of _course_ it does,” Dick corrected with a small smile. 

“Why? You two wouldn’t break up if I took issue,” he nodded to the manor door.“Obviously.”

Dick’s grin fizzled out. Damian was too jaded for this conversation. It was true: if he and Bruce really cared about how anyone felt about their relationship they wouldn’t have entered it. 

But that’s not to say he _didn’t_ care. He just-

“Are you comfortable is the question,” Bruce clarified, “What accommodations can we make that’ll help you adapt?”

“Ever the businessman, aren’t you?” Dick teased, but the comment doubled as a thank you. Bruce wasn’t the best (read: the worst) with conveying emotion, but damn if he couldn’t hash out terms and conditions. 

They proceeded to punch out a sort of oral contract. Dick and Bruce could display (reasonable) affection in front of him, but Bruce lost all right to critique any of Damian’s potential partners. After a little finagling on both parts, the new normal of the manor was established. It was a disarming but oddly precious thing to witness.

Satisfied, Damian hopped up and left. Dick turned to Bruce with a look of shock and awe. 

“That was...easy.” 

“The boy was raised in a murder cult,” Bruce said, pulling Dick’s hand up for a kiss, “He’s either ignorant of social taboos or he doesn’t care.” 

“Well, I’m still worried about Tim.”

“Don’t be. I know where he went.”

——————

“You said all that? Jesus, Timbo, I need a drink.”

Jason’s apartment was a cramped and cluttered shack. Tim knew Jay had money from his ‘businesses’, and could likely afford something better. Still, the look seemed to suit him, like a rebellion against the opulence he was raised in. Or maybe he just spent money on other things. Either way, there was no place Tim would rather be right now. 

“You want some?” Jason asked, holding a bottle of expensive brandy. Ah, so _that’s_ where he put his savings. Instead of his usual ‘I’m not allowed’, he said:

“I’m seventeen.”

“Okay- I’ll put some ice in it.”

Tim blinked but accepted the drink handed to him in a surprisingly delicate glass. 

He sat enveloped in an incredibly squishy couch and Jason propped his feet up on the coffee table. Tim pressed the cooling glass to his forehead wondering how he was now more comfortable here with a former(?) serial killer than in his own home. 

“Does he know you’re here?”

“I didn’t tell him where I was going.”

“Not what I meant, Timtim. Did you take a car?”

“Trolly.”

“Where was the last MAC machine you visited?”

“I got the one nearest the manor- and before you ask, I left all electronics at home.”

“What about the duffle?”

“I’m not an _idiot_ , Jason,” Tim snapped. “I packed my stuff in a trash bag, took my money out, bought a new bag with cash, took the trolly halfway then walked the rest. There’s no way Bruce could’ve tracked me, and even if he did I have the right to run away!” 

The term ‘run away’ stung. It felt permanent. But wasn’t it? He couldn’t go back to the manor, not after...that. 

Apparently having read his mind, Jason downed his glass in one go. “Fuck. This is crazy.” 

“I know. You should have seen how quickly they accepted it- Damian said it was normal!”

“Well, yeah, it’s not like that little hellion knows right from wrong anyway.”

“And _Alfred_! How the hell-“

“Watch yourself, Timmy,” Jason said, his voice taking a new edge, “we don’t talk shit about Alfred in this house.”

“He let our _dad_ fuck our _brother_ , Jay!”

He shrugged. “He also let our dad dress up as a bat and take little kids out to fight crime with him, but I happen to love that old man, so _knock it off_.”

Tim took a sip of watered down liquor and wondered briefly if he was the only sane person in his family. 

“Besides,” Jason added, laying down on the table, “he probably saw it comin’ a mile away. This whole thing is fucked, but I’m not surprised.”

Tim now let his curiosity get the best of him. “What d’you mean?”

“Well,” he pondered, “I don’t know. Growing up, it was...weird sometimes. Like, I always saw Dick as a brother and Bruce as a dad, but Dick and Bruce were never, like, father and son, ya know?”

“I really don’t, Jay.”

“It was _weird_. Dick called him dad or whatever, but it didn’t feel like he meant it. And they did weird shit. You know Dick slept in Bruce’s bed until he was seventeen?”

Tim’s eyes flickered as a pit formed in his stomach. “Dick mentioned it before.”

“Yeah. They only stopped because I came along and said I quit doing that with my mom when I was seven.”

“Do you think...do you think they...”

“Had sex?” 

Tim grimaced. “Yeah.”

Jason considered it and then clicked his tongue. “Dunno. Doubt it. I think Dick left because it was like, shit or get off the pot. Like, they wanted it, but neither were doing anything about it, so Dick said fuck it and left.” 

Tim absorbed the words and his blood turned to ice. What Jason was saying made sense. Dick talked often about how close he and Bruce were when he was younger, and Tim only asked once why he left. Dick said only that they got too close. Tim had interpreted that as Dick wanting independence, to find himself outside of the manor, but now the words rang different. He felt like he was going to vomit. 

“I think I know what you mean,” he relented. “When I came along, after you, you know-“

“Died.” 

“Right. Yeah, they don’t- they’re not- they don’t act normal.” He finished his drink and snorted a bitter chuckle. “I guess this means Dick’s the favorite.”

Jason actually laughed in return. “Yea, can’t deny it now.” He smile faltered, and without asking he refilled their drinks. “But yeah, about me dying. I always kind of knew-“ he took a swig, “well, I’m pretty sure that all the _no kill_ shit would go right out that window if it was Dick and not me.”

Now Tim was in knots. “No, he wouldn’t do that- Bruce would never-“

Jason looked at him and he fell silent. “Oh yeah? Did you think he would ever do _this_?”

Tim knew that Dick had planned to kill Joker himself, and Bruce stopped him. He now wondered if that was because he was asserting his principles or protecting his image of golden boy. 

Jason rinsed their empty glasses and put the brandy back in his cabinet. 

“Anyway, Timbo,” Jason called from his kitchenette, “I don’t have any issue with you being here, but if you want to get away from Bruce, you should bounce around between friends.” 

Tim nodded. Jason was right. He didn’t know if Bruce would bother coming for him, but he didn’t want to risk anything. He didn’t want to be around him, _either_ of them, and he didn’t want to talk it out. He wanted to be angry and disgusted and betrayed. Right now, though, it was late and he was just completely worn out. He kicked off his shoes, curled over on the couch, and resigned himself to call Conner in the morning. 

—————-

Timmy was a clever boy, and had taken extensive measures to travel undetected. Clever, yes, but not sly enough to find the tracker embedded in his shoe. 

Batman came in for the night and checked the computer one last time.  Tim’s movement stopped some hours ago in the lower east side. Jason’s new place, most likely. It was reasonable to assume he explained the entire situation to his brother, and would find somewhere else to go for fear that Bruce would come after him. He wouldn’t, of course. Tim needed time to come around, and he understood that. So let’s see: Conner was most likely the next to know, which meant in all likelihood Superman would be at his door in the morning.

He let out a heavy sigh. He had about six hours left of peace. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thanks for reading!


	3. Superman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Clark is Chris Hanson : P

Bruce went about his morning as though nothing was was amiss. Tim’s tracker placed him in Kansas, and the only way he would’ve gotten there would be if he was taken by one of the Kryptonians. That confirmed his hunch, making Clark’s arrival a certainty. 

He knew it was wrong not to tell Dick what was going on, and justified it as not wanting him to worry. It really had more to do with just savoring the the last moments of functionality they had left together. Waking up to his lover was the highlight of his day- even if Dick was restless sleeper, and would invariably kick him during the night. He just wanted that one more time, as there was no chance Clark was coming to congratulate them.

It was nine fifteen exactly when he finally showed up. Dick and Bruce had helped themselves to a modest breakfast. Alfred joined them at the table, sipping coffee and trying to keep his guilt ridden expression to himself. In spite of yesterday’s episode, Dick remained talkative; conversation was his usual distraction. 

“I called Jason this morning to ask about Timmy.”

“Yea? How’d that go?”

“Awful; would ya believe it?” Dick took a spoonful of cereal, “He knows.”

“What’d he say?”

A flash of pain crossed his face. “He had some... _choice_ words that I really shouldn’t repeat in front of Alfred. But Timmy’s safe and that’s all I care about.”

“He with Jason?”

“Jason said no, but he knew about us, and said he didn’t know where Tim was, which means Tim _was_ there and he _did_ know where he was because Tim left his phone here and how else would he have known if he didn’t go to him?” 

Bruce formed the tiniest smile in spite of himself. It amused him to no end the way Dick’s mind worked. His thoughts bounced around like a pinball machine. He hit all the points, but seemingly at random and with very little to go on. 

“Hey, Bruce,” Dick bit his lip, “Do you think Barb...shit, wait, are you gonna tell Jim?”

And occasionally a thought came out of nowhere.

“I’ve...never told Jim who I was sleeping with before.”

“Yea, well, I tell Babs about everyone I sleep with,” Alfred and Bruce exchanged a glance, “I just...I don’t wanna lose her.”

He should’ve married Barbara. Bruce had wanted them together more than anything- well, except for how much he wanted Dick for himself. She and Bruce had similar personalities that balanced Dick out very well. She would’ve been good for him. Those clear, intelligent eyes could both soothe and immediately understand. Like Bruce, she was calm and thoughtful, but lacked the pit of anger that Bruce had. Dick had an adventurous spirit and that would keep things fresh, she had the mind to keep them grounded, and both had wit that would keep each other laughing all the while. In another life, they’d be perfect together. Which, in this imperfect world, was probably why they weren’t. 

Bruce frowned at his own thoughts. Dick _chose_ to be with him, not Barbara. 

In any case, before he could answer, doorbell rang through the house. It sound more like chimes or a churchbell, and, like everything else in the manor, managed to carry a sense of coldness and foreboding. Alfred wordlessly excused himself to get it, and Bruce’s lip tightened. 

“You expecting somebody?”

“Bruce, Mr. Kent is here for you.”

The trio migrated to the drawing room where the most powerful being on earth sat upright on their couch. _Christ_ , the idiot was in his suit. In any other instance, Bruce would’ve gone belligerent, chastising for risking his secret identity. Instead, hey gave a dry, “Hi, Clark.”

“You know why I’m here, Bruce.”

Dick looked between them. “Do you want us to leave, or-“

“No. You and Mr. Pennyworth can have a seat right there.” 

Superman’s flavor of authority was truly what gave away his place of origin. Instead of telling them to sit down directly, he politely invited them to stay. The wording was disguised as giving them the option while the tone conveyed that they didn’t have one. Distinctly midwestern, wasn’t it? 

Clark spoke again once everyone was seated. 

“This morning I woke up to a tale so strange I wouldn’t have believed except for Jon and Conner telling me it at once.”

_Hm._ That was something he didn’t account for. Bruce briefly wondered at what point Jon had progressed from being Damian’s acquaintance to confidant. 

“I was told that Batman- one of the most prominent superheroes in the world- had entered into a romantic liaison with his adoptive son, Nightwing. Is that true?”

“Yes.” 

In spite of already knowing the answer, Superman reeled back slightly in that righteous anger look he had down to a tee. Bruce wanted to roll his eyes, but instead kept them steely and fixated on the alien.

“Have you come to berate me, Clark?”

“I came to arrest you.”

Dick went off like a firecracker. 

“For what?” He shouted, “We’re not committing a crime-“

“It doesn’t need to be,” Bruce explained calmly. “League regulation states that members can be court-martialed for egregiously immoral acts.”

Bruce should know; he wrote the damn clause. 

“Who’s on jury duty?” He asked.

“I called Diana. She agreed, along with J’onn and Barry.”

“And yourself?”

Clark looked away. “I was asked to act as a character witness.”

Bruce glared at him. “You mean you didn’t _volunteer_?” 

“No, because-“

“Because it would make you look bad,” Dick cut in.

“Because I found it to be a conflict of interest,” Clark corrected with only a hint of malice. “But since I’ve known you the longest, my testimony was considered imperative.”

“If it makes you feel better,” he continued after a pause, “I requested Green Arrow as a sort of expert witness, since he can shed insight on sidekick/hero relations.” 

If he was expecting some sort of thank you, he wasn’t getting it.

“In the interim,” he picked up again, “Tim Drake is staying with my parents. Damian is coming with me.” 

Alfred snapped to look at him. “Wouldn’t it be best for master Damian to stay home?”

Clark sighed. “Afraid not. Given the nature of the charges, the league deemed this home unsafe.”

“Unsafe?” Dick laughed bitterly, “Where was the league when he took down an armed robber last week?”

Clark looked at him. “I’m sure that’ll be brought up in the proceedings.”

Another long pause followed. When the words processed, and it became clear there was no negotiation to be made, Alfred stood with newfound effort. 

“I’ll get the boy situated.”

The butler exited the room in silence.

Bruce closed his eyes. Alfred sounded absolutely heartbroken. It was his fault. 

Clark, despite being morally outraged, was still Bruce’s friend, and couldn’t hold that icy disposition forever. 

“Bruce...I’m not allowed to tell you this, but...they’re trying to have you blacklisted.”

“ _What_?”

Dick grabbed his hand and shouted something Bruce couldn’t hear over his own heartbeat. 

If a league court martial ended in blacklisting, the guilty member was thrown out of the JLA and the proceedings were made public. Real names would be omitted as a curtesy, but enough information would be recorded that his secret identity would almost certainly be exposed. It was tantamount to a death sentence. 

He was blank, clawing at his mind to find something, _anything_ , that could save him. 

Or someone. 

“I request a trial by judge.” 

It was Clark’s turn to be surprised. For the moment, he was Bruce’s friend and not his jailor.

“Bruce, don’t do that!” 

That was lunacy. Letting one person decide your fate over three? Why would a master strategist purposely worsen his odds? What the hell was he playing at? 

Clark took a breath to compose himself. 

“And who do you request to judge?”

“Captain Marvel.”

“Have you lost your goddamn mind?” Clark hollered. Clark never raised his voice, never, ever cursed. 

Bruce held his ground. “I’m exercising my right as a league member.”

Clark stared at him with eyes full of pity. 

Alfred returned with Damian, equipped with a wheeled suitcase in one hand and a snack bag of cookies in the other. Superman stood and met them at the door. He turned and faced Bruce on last time. 

“You have an hour. Get dressed, and call as many character witnesses as you want.”

Bruce and Dick got up to say goodbye, but the Kryptonian stood between them. 

“I can’t let you near him. I’m sorry.”

Alfred steered the boy out of the manor and Bruce swore he heard his boy let out a small cry. 

Clark rubbed the back of his neck. “Listen, Bruce. I want you to know that I have no ill will against you. I just...I expected better.”

The answer he got was as low as a whisper. 

“Get out of my house.” 


	4. Oracle

Dick heaved a series of deep, quick breaths, then promptly exploded. He shouted so loudly the delicate trinkets in the room shook.

“What the _fuck_ , Bruce? What? The fuck. _Whatthefuck_ \- why would you let a ten-year-old decide our future?” 

“He’s twelve.”

“ **Bruce**!” 

Dick was always the dynamo of the dynamic duo, and his emotional swings were part of the reason why. He could go from mad to _manic_ at the drop of a hat.And like his normal thought process, he bounced wildly between targets. 

“And why wasn’t I arrested? Aren’t _I_ an incestuous freak too? Oh, I’m sorry Clark- and **Clark**! That absolute dickweed, isn’t he supposed to be your _friend_?”

“Clark’s loyalty ends where his morals begin,” Bruce stated evenly, “I feel betrayed, but I’m not the least but surprised.”

Dick paced back and forth, occasionally hopping in place- an odd idiosyncrasy of his- just to burn excess energy. Every thing and one was wrong. _‘Why were they so concerned with this’, ‘What kind of idiot made blacklisting an actual thing that could happen’, ‘What were they gonna do with Dami?’_ \- all these points and more were intermingled in a frenzied knot. 

Bruce learned a long time ago to just let him burn himself out. When he had fits like this, there was no rationalizing with him. Maybe this was why Barbara ultimately didn’t want him. She didn’t have the patience for someone who could be in a state of mind where they’re unreachable. Barbara didn’t understand _anger_. Indignation maybe, but not that festering pit of lava that waxed and waned but never left.

Bruce realized his mind was wandering. He came back to the present just in time, as Dick was taking a breather. 

“You done?”

He pressed the bridge of his nose between his index fingers. “For now.”

“I’m being tried because it’s not just the ‘incest’ they take issue with. It’s the assumption that I somehow coerced you into being with me.”

“But that’s bullshit.”

“I know, love.”

“Okay, fine. But blacklisting? Who the fuck came up with that?”

“I did.”

Dick was about to flare up again but Bruce caught him. 

“It was only ever meant to be a deterrent,” he elaborated, “The public needed to trust us. The Blacklisting clause ensured there were real consequences for poor conduct, and real transparency with the people. I never thought they’d actually use it.”

“Against _you_ , ya mean.”

“Well, I can’t know everything.”

“Speaking of- what about Billyboy? Why him?”

“Easy. Captain Marvel channels the power of the gods. His moral center is literally impeccable.”

“Wouldn’t that make it...worse. For. Us?”

“It would seem so,” Bruce replied. The edges of his mouth upturned. It was was the closest thing to smugness Batman ever showed. 

Dick cocked his head and squinted. 

“It would seem- oh. _Oh_. Ohohoho- _wow_.” His face spilt into that signature grin and his eyes lit up. His mood now upturned completely, he threw himself at Bruce for a kiss. 

“Ya know,” Dick murmured, “we might actually have a shot.”

“That’s all I could do, dearest,” Bruce said, hugging him tightly, “but it’s a gamble. We need people on our side.” 

Dick looked incredulous. “Bruce, who the hell is on our side?”

“I am, for one,” huffed a familiar English accent.

“Alfred,” Bruce said, turning to him, “I wouldn’t ask you to testify-“

“But I will,” he replied curtly. “No one disrupts my house. Not you, not your affair, and _certainly_ not a club house of almighty gods.” 

Out of every person Bruce had ever met, the only one he remained consistently in awe of was Alfred. He took a good look at the man who raised him, and blurted out a phrase he never thought he’d say again. 

“Thanks, dad.”

Dick pulled away. “Okay, that was touching, but who else can we call?”

“I also took the liberty of summoning Ms. Gordon.”

“What’d she say?” Dick asked, worry lacing his tone. 

“I didn’t tell her what for. She said she’d be here in forty minutes-“

“We don’t _have_ forty minutes,” Bruce snapped.

“I called forty minutes ago.”

The churchbell chime rang through the manor and Alfred commented, “I wonder who that could be.”

He turned on his heel to retrieve Barbara. 

“ _I love him so much_ ,” Dick whispered to no one in particular.

Barb wheeled into the room, face full of concern. “What’s going on? What did you do?”

Dick and Bruce exchanged a look. Bruce squatted in front of her and took her hands. “Barbara, Dick and I are together. We’re a couple.” 

Her eyebrows rose up slowly, but before she could say anything, Bruce continued.

“I’m not asking you to defend us,” he assured, “I’m asking that you tell the truth.”

“You’ve known us even longer than Tim or Jay,” Dick added, “You know everything about me.”

“I knew you had a _crush_ on him, but-“ She looked between the two of them, trying to calculate her response. 

“Babs,” Bruce pleaded, “They took my kids away.” 

Barbara took a deep breath in. “I don’t get this. I don’t _like_ this.” Another pause.

“But I know who you are. I’ll help.”

Bruce kissed her forehead. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He stood up. “Dick, we need to suit up.”

“Right.”

————

This time Batman and Nightwing were in the drawing room. With five minutes before the big blue Boy Scout was due back, Batman went over what to expect. 

“Wonder Woman is required to be present for every league trial, and everyone who takes the stand testifies using the Lasso of Truth.”

Dick furrowed his brows. “If that’s the case, why have a trial? She could just ask if you loved me.”

Bruce shook his head. “That’s not how it works. The lasso forces you to tell the truth, but doesn’t tell you how to _interpret_ the question.”

“She not going to ask questions that can be misinterpreted,” he continued, “She’s going to as a thousand, tiny, invasive, and seemingly irrelevant ones. And she’s vicious.”

He looked at the three of them individually. “I need you to be prepared to have every aspect of your lives examined. Diana is after the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth.” 

When he saw that they understood, continued.

“I requested that Captain Marvel judge. The jury- Wonder Woman, Flash, and Martian Manhunter- only act as advisories. If the league accepts my request, his vote will be the only one that matters.”

Barbara considered this, her eyes darting around the room as she mentally put together all the pieces. After five seconds, she nodded, impressed. 

“Good move.” 

“ _Jesus_ , you’re sharp,” Nightwing said in amazement. 

The bell rang again. It was time to go. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, if you haven’t noticed, I’m picking choosing what iterations I’m using and at what time bc there’s no one interpretation that I wholly enjoy. All this is to say that I know killing joke isn’t canon but idc bc I like barb as oracle more than batgirl.


	5. The Arrest

It was amazing how one change could make a familiar thing feel foreign. Bruce had grown used to being carried by Superman and flown to wherever. The wind whistling through his mask, Superman’s unwavering arms that held him bridal-style, the warmth of Clark’s body contrasted with the cold air. The major difference now was that he was a shackled prisoner of the league, giving the experience a bizarre twist. 

He wasn’t in normal handcuffs, either. They were pill shaped gauntlets that engulfed his hands up to his forearms, chained together about where Bruce’s wrists would be, making them near impossible to position comfortably. Where the hell they even got these things, he didn’t know. He assumed they were designed especially for metas. ‘A formality’, Superman had said; the sycophantic bastard. The metal wasn’t native to earth, and the covering of the hands made him guess Tamaranean in origin. 

That brought his thoughts to a particular Tamaranean- the one that Dick had brought home to the manor. 

Kori was the first girlfriend Dick had ever took to meet him. Despite it being September, she’d come dressed in a sort of monkini that’d almost made Alfred faint. Her outfits irked him to no end. He wasn’t a prude by any stretch- in fact, he was envious. How beautiful it must be, to come from a world where anyone could wear whatever they wanted, at any time of day or night, without fear of violence. He hoped it was a luxury humans could one day afford. 

Clothing choices were part of a larger issue he took with metas. They could wearthe most ridiculous getups and never so much as suffer a paper cut- meanwhile, Batman and his protégés were covered head to toe in body armor and still managed to be marred with ghastly scars. The exception, as per usual, was Dick, whose lack of armor played to his strength as a flexible acrobat. Still, he wasn’t impervious, and the proof lay with his scar tissue. 

Kori and Dick looked great together, no doubt, and they matched perfectly in temperaments and sexual appetite, but there was something about their relationship that always felt impermanent. Maybe it was because they were too immature, or that neither was any good at commitment. 

Or maybe they’d just grown tired of each other. Dick never specified their reason for separation, and Bruce was just glad to see her gone. The two were still on friendly terms, which Bruce accredited with her people’s lax view of sex and relationships. He knew Tamaraneans were descended from felines, but their sexual behavior reminded him more of bonobos. He wondered if she would accept their coupling, and if Dick would even care what she thought. 

Dick always kept great friendships with his exes. That’s because when he started to care for someone, he never, _ever_ stopped. It was Bruce’s favorite thing about him, even if he didn’t understand it, having burned so many bridges himself. 

With Superman’s cruising speed they got the watchtower’s earth base in what felt like forever and no time at all.

It wasn’t until they were both standing in the teleporter that Bruce realized Clark hadn’t said one word to him.Not that he wanted to speak to him at this point, but Christ, it was like he was a common criminal. 

The doors opened to the real watchtower, in space, and Bruce found himself returning to elementary school after witnessing the most high profile assassinations in Gotham history. 

Every eye turned to him, followed by whispers that swirled around and nipped at his heels. The halls were longer than he remembered, and populated exclusively with people wondering why the Batman was being escorted in shackles.

The holding cells were windowless rooms big enough to comfortably hold three or four people. Painted a pale orange- apparently a soothing color, though it only managed to make Bruce more aggravated- it was one of about six the watchtower had, but never used. It wasn’t until the door secured behind them that Clark addressed him. 

“Listen, Bruce,” he pleaded, “The council accepted your request, but Billy doesn’t get out of school for a little while longer. You still have enough time to rescind the judge request and have a jury trial.” 

Bruce sat down and didn’t look at him. 

“ _Please_ , Bruce, don’t do this. I think I know what your game is, and don’t think it’ll work. Captain Marvel can’t be swayed.”

Evidently, Clark had no clue what Bruce’s game was. Billy being incorruptible was _precisely_ what he was counting on. How Clark could have all the pieces, but not put them together, Bruce didn’t know. 

Growing agitated, Superman hovered in the air, almost in a sitting position.

“Bruce, I don’t know how I feel about this whole thing- but I don’t want to see you thrown out the league, and I _don’t_ want you blacklisted. You’re the most valuable member of this team- I _mean_ that. We can’t afford-“

“If you believed that, why’d you report me to the league?”

Clark lowered to the ground.

“I didn’t.”

“What?”

“I wasn’t the one who reported you to the league.” 

Bruce’s blood boiled. 

“Don’t _lie_ to me, Clark,” he threatened, “You said you called Diana-“

“She already _knew_.” 

Batman leaned back as Superman made his way out of the room. 

“And for the record,” he added, catching the door before it shut, “I only wanted you suspended. Not all this.”


	6. Before the Trial

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Wonder Woman is General Li Shang

“Well, it is very _Woody Allen_ of him.”

Barry, Diana, and J’onn sat alone in the league’s courtroom. The cylindrical room made use of its high ceilings by resembling a small amphitheater. There were about a dozen rows of benches in three columns. Opposite the seating area was a narrow stage, where the judge and jury sat in a row. The jury table was a simple desk lined with three chairs, occupied by the aforementioned heroes. The judge’s chair, which was usually empty, was more ornate, and sat higher than the jury. In the center, facing the Judge seat head on, was the witness stand- a little seat that sat behind a modest podium.

If the Amazon or Martian understood the reference, they didn’t say so. 

“On my planet, someone guilty of incest would be sentenced to death.”

“Yeah,” Barry reasoned, “But they’re not _actually_ related.”

“Does Batman call him son?”

“Yeah.”

“Does Nightwing call him father?”

“I disagree,” Diana interjected. “It is custom for Amazonians to refer to each other as sister, but romantic liaisons do occur. Family names may not always reflect family relations.”

“May be,” J’onn conceded, “But are they not family in practice? Batman did raise him from childhood, did he not?” 

Barry rubbed the back of his neck.

“Well, I mean, we’re not deciding whether or not to put him to death. We’re just- what are we deciding exactly?” 

“We’re examining the true nature of their relationship,” Said Diana, “and how it all came to be. This will help us determine what consequences Batman will face.”

“Well, why don’t we just ask Nightwing then?”

Wonder Woman sighed. “I’m afraid it’s not that easy. The lasso forces you to tell the truth- the truth as you know it. If it’s true that Nightwing was coerced by Batman to be with him, he won’t know what the truth is, and his testimony would be null and void.”

“Do you think Batman is clever enough to completely brainwash someone?” Asked J’onn.

“Clever, sure,” relied Diana, “but is he cruel enough?”

“Hey J’onn,” Barry said, “Why don’t you just mind read or something?”

“Not admissible in court,” Wonder Woman retorted.

“I may stumble on the defendant’s strategy,” J’onn elaborated, “Or something completely unrelated. It’s a matter of privacy.” 

Barry bit his cheek.

“Personally-and I heard this from others too- I thought it was kinda weird that his kids all look alike. Ya know...like a type.”

An uneasy silence hung over them. 

As if shaking the thoughts from her head, Diana broke the silence. 

“We shouldn’t gossip. We have to get the proceedings in order so we can start when Captain Marvel arrives.”

“That’s the other thing,” Barry jumped in, continuing to gossip, “D’ya think he knows something we don’t? Bruce I mean. ‘Cause I was thinking- Billy gets his powers from the gods, right? So, ya know how Zeus married his sister-“

Diana huffed. “If that’s what Bruce is thinking, it won’t work. The rules of gods are separate from the rules of man. Billy will know that.”

She straightened her papers against the desk. 

“Now,” She continued, “Let’s get down to business. In what order are witnesses to be called?”

—————-

Never in his life did Dick Grayson think he’d be uncomfortable with attention. He was a born entertainer, and even his costume designs as Robin and Nightwing were made to grab attention. In fact, his Robin costume sparked the first (of many) argument he had with Bruce. Bruce said he’d get killed dressed like that, to which he promptly replied that there was no outfit he’d rather die in. That’d been the end of that, save for the snippy remark that he’d regret the shorts come winter. Batman lived in the shadows, not him; never him. 

Now, though, he would have begged for the cover of darkness. The hype of Batman’s arrest had died down as second and third hand witnesses dismissed it as a misunderstanding, rumor, or downright lie. After all, didn’t Batman, like, _make_ the rules? How could he be arrested? Suffice to say, seeing Captain Atom escort Nightwing and two civilians turned skeptics into believers.

Atom, for his part, was insufferable and made Superman look like a downright rebel. 

He led them to the near empty dining hall so they (meaning Alfred and Barbara) could rest. Despite it taking all of their combined power to suppress an eye roll, it worked out for the best. 

“I’ll look for Superman,” Captain Atom said, “Try to figure where he wants you to go.”

Instead of, you know, putting them somewhere private and just telling Superman afterward. Nope, had to have direct orders from Big Blue himself. Just as Atom turned to leave, Dick looked up to see an angel in the form of Victor Stone. 

“I’ll take it from here, Cap,” he said with a smile. 

Atom seemed conflicted. 

“I’m not authorized to-“

“Superman asked me specifically to take these three to where the other witnesses are being held.”

Atom studied him for a second, and Cyborg’s face grew more serious. 

“The hearing is going to start soon,” he said, “they’re needed immediately.”

Another second. 

“Yessir.”

Finally free of Captain Atom, Nightwing and Cyborg talked in low tones as they walked through the halls.

“When’s the trial starting?”

“How the hell should I know?”

In spite of everything, Dick smiled.

“Really Victor? So you just up and take us? You don’t even know why we’re here. Alfred, Babs, and I could’ve committed mass murder.”

A snort. “Yeah, and I majored in interpretive dance.” 

“I took ballet,” Dick quipped. Victor took it as a joke, but it was actually true; Bruce insisted it would help with form and balance. 

“Anyway,” Dick said, “where are you really taking us?”

“Right here,” was the reply as he punched in a door code, “Conference room. I figured you’d want to be with your brothers.”

“My broth-“

“Dick?” 

Nightwing turned slowly to see Red Robin and Red Hood sitting at one end of long, oval table. 

**_Tim._ **

True to training, Dick turned to Victor and smiled wide. “Thanks Victor, I owe you one.”

“No problem.”

He even managed to wait until door was closed before he completely lost his shit. 

“What’re you two doing here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, Dickey?” Jason asked, “We came here to testify against Bruce.”

Dick calculated if he had enough in him to kick both their asses. 

And yeah. _He did_.

He jumped on the table in a full sprint. Tim tilted his chair back and rolled out of it. Jason kicked the leg of the table, causing it to cave to the side- but not before Dick caught the higher side, using it to propel him forward in a kick to Jason’s arm and rib. Jason was thrown off balance but Tim was on him in a second, clipping his jaw. 

Jason was on his feet before being taken out again when Barbara threw an _entire_ jug of water for the water cooler from ten feet away.

A deafening bang rang through the room, bringing everything to a halt. 

Dick briefly thought he’d been shot, but Jason’s hands were free. 

They turned in time to see Alfred put his revolver away. “Sit down,” he demanded, “We’ll have a civil conversation.” 

Tim, Jason, and Dick rose gradually, with Jason picking up the table he knocked over. 

“Honestly,” Alfred huffed as the boys took their seats, “Grow up.”

“What do you expect me to say to them?” Dick said finally.

“How about thank you?” Tim snapped. 

“ _Thank you?!_ ”

“You’re welcome,” Jason responded dryly. 

Ignoring his brothers, Tim heaved a heavy sigh. His shoulders hung low. 

“Dick, look at yourself,” he pleaded, “What you’re doing isn’t right.”

“It’s also none of your business.”

“It is my business!” Tim replied, “You’re my brother, Bruce is- Bruce-“ his lip quivered, and Dick’s anger melted into concern. “God, I can’t believe this is even happening.” 

Tim kept his hands over his face in order to keep composure. The room was quiet for a minute before Jason spoke.

“I reported it to the league.”

Dick snapped to look at him. 

“So you’re why we’re here?”

“Technically, _you’re_ why we’re here, but whatever. Timmy and I figured, given-“

“Given that Bruce is a total _creep_ -“ Tim interjected.

“Right,” Jason nodded, “We figured it’d be best to, ah, involve a higher power.” 

“And what exactly was your end goal?” Barbara asked.

Jason shrugged, so Tim tried to answer.

“To make sure that their relationship is...to make sure Dick wasn’t...that Bruce...”

“To make sure I wasn’t groomed,” Dick finished flatly. 

“Yeah.”

Dick really did roll his eyes this time. “Does it occur to you that I’m an adult?”

“Does it occur to you how fuckin creepy Bruce is?” Tim said, irked again. “How creepy all of this is? When did he even start to _look_ at you this way? Do you even know?”

Dick bit his lip and found that he didn’t know. Did it matter? Bruce hadn’t acted on anything...

_Right_? 

The door opened and Superman seemed surprised to find three more people in the room then before. 

“Oh, good, you’re all here,” he quickly recovered. “It’s time to start.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The ballet comment came from the movie “return of the caped crusaders” (highly recommend) and I found it so cute I had to reference it. I’m not sure if it exists in any other continuity but idc So :V 
> 
> Also, Alfred is strapped 24/7 and no one will convince me otherwise.


	7. Witness One

Captain Marvel was a perpetually disjointed sight. The Goliath took his seat at the judges chair clutching a little book bag and matching lunchbox. When asked how his day went, a rich baritone voice of a man in his mid thirties responded that he’d taken a field trip to an aquarium. After a moment, he added that they’d let him touch jellyfish and nurse sharks.

This was who Batman trusted his entire livelihood with. 

With the judge and jury situated, the witnesses filed in and took their seats.

Bruce sat in the row reserved for defendants, with Dick and Alfred sitting behind him in the row above. Barbara chose to stay in her wheelchair, but sat as near as she could. On the other side were Tim and Jason. Superman sat closer to the latter pair but was detached from them, and Green Arrow had chosen a seat isolated from everyone near the back row.

Flash kept record while Diana spoke.

“Good evening, everyone,” she greeted without mirth, “We convene today in the Justice League trial of Batman, charged with committing immoral acts specified in the league handbook section thirty-eight point one-nine-four-zero: inappropriate relations with family members. The family member in question is Batman’s eldest son, Nightwing.” 

“All witnesses must submit themselves to the Lasso of Truth. Any questions before we begin?”

A pause. 

“Very well,” she said, “Let the record show no inquiries were made.”

“The League calls Superman to the witness stand.”

The Kryptonian stood with that refined look of duty which now filled Dick with anger and not admiration. Superman took his seat as Diana came to secure the lasso around his wrist. She flew leisurely back to her place before beginning the interrogation. 

“State your name.”

“Kal-El.”

“Earth name.”

“Clark Kent-Lane.”

“State relationship to defendant.”

“Friend- and colleague.” 

“Do you recall your first meeting with the defendant?”

“Yes,” Clark replied immediately. 

Total recall must be quite the perk.

“Yes,” he replied again, reasonably slower.He went into their original encounter, in detail. What this had to do with him and Bruce, Dick didn’t know. It all seemed so tedious and extra. The whole account, including first impressions, changing opinions, subsequent friendship, were all accepted and recorded. Did they do this for everyone? 

After all that, Wonder Woman inquired about the first time meeting Nightwing, then Robin.

“Do you recall the conversation?”

“Yes. I asked him, um,” he frowned. “I asked him if he or Batman picked his costume.”

“Why?”

“Because I found it...inappropriate to wear.”

“Elaborate.”

Clark went the lightest shade of pink.

“Impractical for a non-meta, for sure-lacked armor,” he said, clearly trying to evade the lasso’s hold. It was no use. “And the- his shorts were...tiny.”

This was accepted passively, and Dick’s eyebrow twitched. That outfit was what he and his parents wore to perform- they had been perfectly fine with the ‘skimpy’ outfit. 

He remembered the encounter well. He and Superman met sixty stories up. Robin had been perched on a bare flagpole that was at a right angle to the building it was attached to. Scared the everlivin’ daylights out of the man of steel, as he evidently wasn’t expecting a ‘ _hey there_ ’ from that high up. He remembered those inhumanly blue eyes that surveyed him, up and down. Not that he’d taken issue- he loved attention after all, and in them days he had quite the crush on Superman.

Seemingly having come to his senses, without prompting Clark added:

“He said he picked it out though; that Batman didn’t make him.”

From then on, he was asked questions detailing his later encounters with Batman and Robin. Despite his best efforts, Dick found it hard to pay attention. He knew these stories anyway; he’d been there. Diana was clearly taking advantage of his eidetic memory. Which was fair- the man was like a living camera, but _still_.

Superman has moved on to Dick’s teen years, just before he’d given up the mantle  of Robin. 

“Did you notice anything unusual about their relationship at the time?” Asked Diana.

“Well, at the time, no, but-“

“Speculation.”

Dick hadn’t meant to say that out loud. The questioning halted, and all the presiders looked at him expectantly. 

“Um,” he tried again, being sure to focus on Captain Marvel, “Isn’t that speculation? At the time, he didn’t notice anything off, but now he knows we’re together, he’s changing what he said.”

Billy leaned back in his chair, considering. 

“I’d say so.” 

He took a breath in.

“However,” he reasoned, “It is natural for new information to recontextualize old events. I’ll allow it. Superman, as you were.”

“Right. Well, it’s just that they- Robin- was always very affectionate with Bruce. But, as he got older it became more...pronounced?” 

“Please clarify.”

“I didn’t acknowledge it at the time, but I’d say starting from around he was fifteen, Dick would sort of just cling to him. In a way that was more....romantic.” 

He thought hard, stringing the right words together. 

“And all the while his Robin costume never changed. It was cute when he was a kid, but...” 

It seemed a perpetual blush tainted his cheeks now. Remarkable how sensitive he was, even now. 

“At the same time....there seemed to be an underlying tension between them- like there was always an argument ready to start.”

Well, he was right on that front, anyway.

“I even asked Bruce once if there was something wrong.”

“And he said?”

Clark’s eyes flickered.

“To mind my business.”

Wonder Woman reviewed her seemingly endless list of questions once more, then let out a heavy sigh. She pinched the bridge of her nose, perhaps coming to the conclusion she was getting no where. 

“That’ll be all, Clark, thank you.” 

As she was about to call the next witness, Captain Marvel cut her off. 

“Uh, excuse me, Diana,” he said, “But I think we should call it for today...my curfew is eight-thirty, after all.”

“That late already?” She said, eyes wide. “As you wish.”

“Righto,” Captain Marvel said, “Court dismissed, I guess. Same time tomorrow.”

——————

Dick didn’t sleep. Instead, he lay awake as thoughts swirled in his mind.

He thought about the trial, obviously, where it would go from here, who’d be called next. If any of it would even amount to anything. How stupid and invasive it was, and how it made him feel like a baby. 

He thought about Damian, and if he was alright, and if he was behaving himself. If anything, the kid was probably just siked to be spending the foreseeable future hanging out with his best friend. 

Mostly, though, like in most nights he spent alone, he thought about Bruce. In between girlfriends and one night stands, he’d clutch his pillow and pretend it was Bruce’s arm. Now he did the same, although the cushion really didn’t do him justice. 

Bruce was more like a firm mattress- a comparison that never ceased to entertain Dick. But it was true. As he’d gotten older, Bruce had thickened up, becoming a boulder of muscle that hid underneath a layer of fat. While Batman was out lifting fully grown men over his head and wrestling bears or whatever, Bruce Wayne (according to the media) had let himself go. Honestly, Dick wouldn’t care if Bruce really had just gotten fat- and really, isn’t that what true love was? 

He thought about the little wrinkles that marked his face, and the scars that decorated his body. Thought about those icy blue eyes that melted when Bruce was around little kids- little kids who were never, _ever_ afraid of Batman. He wondered when that jet black hair would give way to gray- and grimaced when he thought about his love going bald. Ugh, he’d much prefer the gray. 

He thought, not for the first time, about what a future would even mean for them. Bruce was forty-nine, himself twenty-seven. He knew Bruce was feeling his age. 

_“I’ve outlived my parents,”_ he’d whispered in the dark once, while they talked in bed. 

Dick didn’t think Bruce had ever planned to outlive his parents. If he had, what the hell was he doing as Batman? 

_1:00 AM._

He really had to go to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! This chapter was like, really hard to write. I felt like was just really boring.
> 
> Also, give me thicc Batman or give me death! It’s a real pet peeve of mine that superhero’s are so often designed after body builders (in competition) and not power lifters or strong men. Idc what anyone says, if Batman had such visible muscles, he’d fuckin die of exhaustion >:V give my homeboy some fat


	8. Alfred Pennyworth

Alfred had given him the luxury of sleeping in. It didn’t matter much, as Bruce’s trial was contingent on Billy’s school schedule. 

“Tomorrow’s Saturday,” Dick said at the breakfast table.

“Yes.”

“Do you think they’ll have a hearing all day, or take off for the weekend?”

“Suppose it’s at the discretion of the judge, isn’t it?” Alfred took a sip of coffee. “Very strange, a little boy behind that mountain of a man. Master Bruce figured him out almost immediately, of course.”

Dick smiled. Of course he had.

“Well, after raising three boys,” he said. 

Alfred’s face fell. 

“Four.” 

Dick turned pink. “Technically, yea,” he conceded, “I don’t really consider it, ya know...”

“Sleeping with your father.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the room. Usually, on such occasion, Alfred would leave, or Dick would change the subject, but the emptiness that webbed between them locked them in place. This was the kind of silence that forced people to talk. 

“Bruce never mentioned, how you ah, _took it_.”

Alfred kept his eyes on his cup. “Can’t say I was shocked. Disappointed, mostly.”

Dick’s lip twitched downward. That hurt a hell of a lot more than anything Tim threw at him. Nonetheless, he pressed on.

“But what do you think about it?”

“I think whatever happens between two consenting adults is none of my business.” 

Christ, getting Alfred to open up was like pulling teeth. No, worse- it was like getting _Bruce_ to open up. 

“Alfred,” Dick pleaded, “Tell me the truth.”

Alfred curled his lip tightly. He wouldn’t look at him. Dick was about to come at him again, but he got his answer.

“I think I’m the one who should be on trial.” 

Dick was taken aback. “Alfred, do you...it’s not your fault-“

“Oh?” He challenged, “And whose fault would it be then?” 

“No ones!” Dick shot back, “Why would it be anyone’s fault?” 

Alfred breathed a heavy sigh, then hung his head. “I never even wanted him to take you in, you know.”

Dick knew. He remembered Uncle Haly arguing with social workers, fighting to keep Dick with the circus- with his family. Even as a child, he was certain they didn’t have a chance. 

He remembered meeting Mr. Wayne for the first time. All he had to do was say the word, and the social workers handed a child over to him; a total stranger. It was the first time Dick had seen what money could do. 

He remembered the coldness of Wayne Manor, too. Alfred, at the time, seemed to be an extension- or embodiment- of the house itself.Frigid, distant, and watchful. 

Dick had first thought he’d done something to offend the man, until he’d heard Alfred and Bruce arguing about him. He’d stood outside this very same kitchen, years ago, as hushed voices cut through the air at three in the morning. 

_“He can’t stay here! Between my age and your nightly escapades, he’ll be orphaned again in no time.”_

_“So what? We throw him back into the system? Do you honestly think that would be better?”_

They went on like that for awhile, and Dick had snuck away before he was caught snooping. Obviously, Bruce had won out. In the meantime, Dick warmed up to the two of them, and discovered the nature of Bruce’s ‘nightly escapades’. The rest was history. 

“It feels like forever ago, it was just us three,” Dick pondered quietly. 

“Even longer ago, it was just us two.” 

Dick looked up at the old man who sat across from him. He’d been of the mind for awhile that Alfred was the most important member of the family. Bruce may have been the head of the household, but Alfred was the backbone. Like the middle of a wheel, holding all the spokes in place. 

He always thought, privately, that’d he’d take Alfred’s place as the family’s foundation. That was before he took a sledgehammer to the whole shebang, anyway. 

Maybe he should’ve said that, but he didn’t. 

“What did you do before all this?”

“Hm?”

“Before Wayne manor. What’d ya do?”

Despite all that’d been said, a twinkle formed in those deep brown eyes. 

“Everything,” Alfred said, with the smallestsmile.

“Started out in the army- medic, you know that. Got picked up by British intelligence afterward.” 

“Like James Bond?”

A nod. “Only better. I was offered a promotion, but I was sick of it by then.”

“What’d you do after that?”

“Took up a job as Thomas Wayne’s valet, of course,” he explained, “Wanted something quiet in retirement, you know.”

Dick huffed out a laugh. “So much for quiet, right?”

“Right.” Alfred leaned over on the counter, now deeply contemplative. “I didn’t want any of it, you know. Not the army, or intel, or the manor.”

“What did you want?”

“I wanted to be an actor. Shakespearean- I was trained and everything. But...life went a different way.”

Dick circled the edge of his mug with his finger.

“What about a family? Did you want a wife- or a husband?”

“Neither,” Alfred said, “I never wanted kids, never thought much of romance. But when the Wayne’s were killed, all a sudden, there was a child who knew me even better than his extended family. I couldn’t leave him.” 

Another long pause. Alfred was the sort of person who everyone seemed to respect. There was something in his posture, maybe- straight, almost wiry frame, but not weak at all. A man defined by duty, but not at all a pushover. It was perplexing to see someone who lived such a full life, but not the one he wanted. 

“That’s ultimately why I let him get into the vigilante business,” he said, emptying his cup, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes raising him, I’m sure. I just...who am I to keep him from what he wants?” 

It was hard to imagine Bruce without Batman. Dick had seen Bruce’s childhood pictures, but those didn’t even look like him. The boy in those pictures shared features with the man he knew, but he was frozen in time- a happier, simpler time. A time before a storm raged in those gray blue eyes, a time where smiles were as genuine as they were easy to form. 

There was more than a decade separating the Wayne heir from the Dark Knight. The two were bridged together by one man, who’d done everything in his power to mold a posh, defenseless child into the most feared figure among the most fearsome inhabitants of a battle torn city.

Batman was Bruce’s life purpose; Bruce had been Alfred’s. 

“Or _who_ ,” he added. 

Dick looked down. 

“Is that why you’re testifying? Because you think this all your fault?” 

Alfred pursed his lips. “Sometimes,” he said, “I look at Master Bruce and see an eight-year-old boy. Other times, I hardly recognize him.”

“For the most part, I’m proud of how he turned out.” He peered into his empty cup. “Every now and again, I’m convinced I’ve created a monster. No matter what he is, though, I helped make him this way, and I need to answer for that, too. I couldn’t leave him then, and I can’t leave him now.” 

With that, he checked his watch. 

“Speaking of,” Alfred said, “It’s time to go.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I decided to delete the chapter and rewrote it. Originally, I just posted it to get it out of the way, but I was so dissatisfied with it I decided to just chuck it and do it over. I’m really sorry about that, because as a reader I don’t like when that’s done. Most of the original was kept in tact, I just added things. 
> 
> The challenge with chapter was making sure future chapters aren’t made redundant. So, if this chapter still doesn’t seem cohesive, that’s probably why 
> 
> I headcanon Alfred as aroace. I know some iterations pre-crises(?) He has an astranged daughter, but to me that just seemed like DC shoehorning that he wasn’t gay or something like that. Having him disinterested in sex or romance explains his choices in life better, I think. 
> 
> But whatever, thanks for reading, and forgive me for the late update!


	9. Witness Two

As soon as she entered the courtroom, Barbara made her way to the presiders. Wonder Woman met her halfway and leaned in close. They spoke in low tones. 

“Of course, sister,” Diana assured, standing tall again. 

With that, she took her place with the others.

Barbara wheeled her way to Bruce, and Dick leaned down to hear.

“I’m sorry,” she explained, “I just can’t do this back and forth indefinitely. I asked to say my piece today.”

Bruce squeezed her hand, excusing her from guilt.

She looked up at Dick with those glittering green eyes of hers. 

“I’m sorry,” she said again. 

“You’ve already done more than enough,” he said with a weak smile. 

It only felt like half of a lie. It was true that she didn’t have to help them out at all, and agreeing to be a witness put her reputation on the line. Even so, extracting herself from the proceedings felt more like her extracting herself from their lives. They all knew if she cared enough, she’d stick around no matter what. 

Dick leaned back, and Alfred placed a hand on his. He’d lost his best friend. 

“Welcome back,” Diana greeted after everyone settled down. “Day two of Batman’s trial is underway. Per her request, Barbara Gordon will be taking the stand.”

Barbara positioned herself next to the podium and Diana put the lasso around her wrist. 

“State your name.”

“Barbara Gordon.”

“Relationship to defendant.”

“Ah...” She paused. “Ally. Friend. Daughter.” 

Diana looked up. 

“Blood or adoption?”

“Neither. What I mean is that Batman is like a father to me.” 

Nodding, Diana pressed on. Much like before, she started out by establishing a timeline. 

“How is it that you met the defendant?”

Barbara looked down at her lap. 

“My dad told me about the Batman when I was a teenager. I-“

“And how old were you, exactly?”

“Fifteen.”

“How old are you now?”

“Twenty-nine.” 

“Very well. You may continue.” 

Bruce recalled his first meeting with Batgirl fondly. He’d seen her by chance- an athletic little girl, in a homemade costume. She was still inching her way out, much like he did when he’d first started- mostly focusing on purse thieves or pickpockets. 

He’d met her during her first bold takedown. 

“I stopped an abduction. The woman got away, but the guy was trying to fight me.”

Barbara was smart, but she was limited in fighting experience. She relied on pepper spray, a taser, baton, and any other little weapon she could get her hands on without raising suspicion. A taser and brass knuckle combo had done the trick with that particular asshole, but Batman was absolutely furious with her. 

“He told me I could’ve gotten killed, that I was lucky the guy didn’t shoot me then and there.”

He’d told her if he saw her out on the streets again he’d hospitalize her, if she wasn’t dead by then. He told her to go home; it wasn’t a game. 

She in turn looked up at him and at a whopping five foot six, stared down the Batman.

“I refused to stop. I told him the city needed help, and that he and robin weren’t enough and I’d go out at night with or without him.” 

It was the first time he’d seen it: eyes teeming with determination, and devoid of fear. 

“He told me to come with him.”

Barbara was fully aware- likely more aware, given Jim’s background- that what she was doing was dangerous. Maybe it was impulsive, but Bruce decided he would take her in, like he’d done with Dick. She had the mind and the will, he’d give her the tools and the know-how. 

Robin, then just shy of fourteen, had been wholly adverse to having a girl (or anyone, really) intrude on the dynamic duo. It was the first of many times Dick would become jealous over sharing Bruce with someone else. Suffice to say, the petty rivalry didn’t last, and he grew to love her dearly. 

Barb has blossomed beautifully under his training, and she and Dick fought more like one person than two. 

“Is it fair to say you were close with Batman and Nightwing at this point?”

“Yes- very.”

“Did you notice anything unusual about their relationship?”

Barbara swallowed. 

“Dick mentioned, that um...that he was infatuated with Bruce.”

“When was this?”

“I was about twenty at the time, so he was eighteen.” 

“How did this come up?”

“We were drunk, hanging out in my dormroom.” 

Dick could recall that night like it was yesterday. He was a senior in high school, and he and Bruce were arguing constantly. After a particularly nasty spat, he hopped on the train where Barb was waiting for him.

Of course, Bruce had harped ad nauseam that they weren’t allowed to drink, but Barbara said they should make an exception. So they did, drinking and ranting and laughing at the crazy old bat. Half way through the cheap white wine was when he said it, after laughing until his eyes were teary.

_“I love him, though.”_

Barb agreed that she did as well, but immediately grew concerned when she saw that he was shaking. 

“ _I really, really love him.”_

_“Well, he’s your dad...”_

His look had said it all. Next thing he new, he was curled up on a twin bed, sobbing into Barbara’s chest. It’d been the first time, _ever_ , that he admitted having feelings for Bruce. Barbara just held him, told him it was because they spent so much time together, and he tried his best to believe her. 

“I suggested he move out, and to date around.”

Wonder Woman spent the rest of the interrogation bringing everything up to date. She was meticulous, establishing what Barbara knew and when. It all seemed tedious, even cruel, but Barbara gave an answer to every question. 

“Is that really necessary?” Captain Marvel asked after Diana inquired about Batgirl’s retirement.

“It’s fine,” Barbara cut in, “I can answer.” 

Her voice strained recounting that night in with her father. The only thing she did wrong was open the door. 

It was a tragedy Bruce knew well. A young, vibrant person cut down in their prime. What happened to her was his fault- everything that happened to his protégés was his fault. He was worried she would die, but he should’ve known better. Survival was what Barbara did best. She adapted, molding herself into the most valuable ally Gotham had. 

Her voice grew steady again as she went over all of the relationships Dick had been in up to that point. That was all Diana was really after, anyway. Sporadically she was asked if Dick or Bruce mentioned anything unusual, but Barb denied that every time. 

That was, until they got to the subject of Nightwing’s most recent relationship. Barbara talked about Dick and Kori’s three year relationship. It seemed like Dick really had told her everything about his lovers. 

“Do you know why they separated?”

“Yes. He said that sometimes, when he and Kori had sex, he would...say the wrong name.”

“Did he say whose name that was?”

“He didn’t, no.” 

Diana put her papers down. “That’s all I have for you, little sister. I admire your courage.”

Barbara wheeled out immediately, giving a passing glance to Dick. 

Wonder Woman faced Captain Marvel. 

“Will we pick up tomorrow?”

He seemed conflicted, his eyebrows kitting tightly. 

“Well I have a birthday party to go to...but this is more important. Yes, we reconvene tomorrow, eight in the morning. Court dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the sake of this fic, we’re going to assume the events of killing joke took place after Jason was adopted, but before death in the family. So obviously, Batman didn’t kill joker


	10. The Kents

Superman waited for everyone to file out before he went to retrieve Bruce. He technically wasn’t allowed to let the pair have any contact, but when Nightwing gave Batman a kiss, Clark let it slide. Alfred acknowledged him as he exited, but Dick bristled by without so much as a cursory look. Clark let that slide, too.

“Come on, Bruce,” he said, placing a hand on his shoulder.

He took the shortest route to Batman’s holding cell to spare him the spectators as best he could. Damn near everyone knew now that Batman was on trial, but everyone involved was under strict orders to keep their mouths shut. Non-core members rarely asked Clark to fill them in anyway- they were either too afraid or revered him too much to even speak to him. It was his least favorite thing about being Superman. Try as he might to be normal and approachable, it nearly always came off as disingenuous or even facetious. It was things like that that made him happier as Clark J. Kent-Lane, not Kal-El.

Reminding himself quietly not to make things about him, he punched his code in for the door. 

“Do you want anything to eat?” He asked, taking Bruce’s cuffs off. 

“I’m fine.”

“Don’t go on a hunger strike, Bruce” Clark said sternly, “I know you didn’t have lunch.”

“I said I’m fine.”

Superman signed. “Fine. But you better have breakfast tomorrow, or so help me-“

“Tell Damian I said to behave himself.” 

“Will do. Goodnight, Bruce.” 

Without a reply, he left. The whole thing still felt so surreal. Dick had been like a son to Clark. Could he have prevented this? Was there anything he should’ve said, a conversation he could’ve had with either Bruce or Dick that would’ve made them come to their senses? 

He never said it out loud- because it’d be wrong to- but he’d always thought Dick was the best Robin. He loved Bruce’s other kids- he grimaced- but really, Dick and Bruce had always been the best team. He wondered now if this was the real reason why. 

“Jason, do you need a ride home?” He asked, entering the transporter room. Dick and Mr. Pennyworth must’ve already left.

“Nah, I’m good.” 

“Okay.”

Jason, Clark, and Tim got on the transporter. When they reached earth, Clark asked if Jason was sure he was alright to get home. The boy- man, now-again refused and so he dropped it. 

When they got outside, Jason pulled Tim in for a tight hug, and even gave him something of a kiss on the forehead. Clark pretended not to notice. 

“Night, Timmy. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

“Goodnight, Jason.”

“Don’t go to the courtroom without me.”

“Alright, Jason.”

“I mean it.”

“I _got_ it, Jay.”

With one last squeeze, Jason got into his car. Tim waved goodbye, before turning to Superman. 

“Ready to go?”

“Mm-hm.”

With that, the Kryptonian scooped him up and they were off. 

Tim felt so much smaller in his arms than Bruce. Tim had always been the tiny one, and even though Damian was shorter, he seemed to take up more space than Drake. It was probably his bad attitude- like his anger gave him more mass or something. He shouldn’t be mean, the kid had it pretty rough. Unimaginably horrible, more like. 

Clark decided he’d give his parents a hug when he got home. 

After reaching a steady cruising altitude, he struck up some conversation. 

“I hope Conner remembered to pick up your brother from school.”

“I hope he left the gremlin there on purpose.” 

Clark chuckled. “Tim, I haven’t the slightest idea what you’re talking about. Damian is an angel.” 

And really, by Damian standards, he had been very good for Clark. Jon was a great influence, if he said so himself (and he so did). He knew that was partially because Damian was under assumption he’d be going home in due time. Which, if everything went well, he would. 

“Conner tells me you got a new internship. You like it?”

“So far. The schedule is really flexible, and they were pretty understanding when I said I needed to take off for awhile.” 

“How’d you get it?”

“It’s some law firm Wayne enterprises works with. Bruce wanted me to get familiar with them before I take over.”

“Take over what?”

“Wayne Enterprises. At this rate, though, I don’t really want to.” 

Dick and Bruce’s coupling would’ve been weird no matter what, but it broke Clark’s heart to see how it affected the others.

“Well, I promise you, Tim: with a mind like yours, you’ll do anything you want.”

“Thanks, Superman.” 

Clark decided to address the elephant in the room. 

“How’re you adjusting, Tim? With, the- ya know.” 

The teen turned over in his arms, so the wind was out of his face. 

“Okay, I guess. Given.” 

“Sure.” 

“It must’ve been a shock,” Clark said after a pause. 

Tim’s voice was small. “Yeah.”

Not quite knowing how to go from there, the flight went quiet.

“Are you and Bruce still friends?” Tim asked after some time. 

“I’m not quite sure what we are. I’m fairly certain he’s not _my_ friend. Can’t say I blame him, what with me arresting him ‘n all.” 

“Do you even want to be his friend?”

“Tim, when you get to be my age, you don’t have friends to lose.” 

That was true enough. Unless he joined a book club or knitting circle, he wasn’t set to meet knew people. He had Lois, and Jimmy still popped by every now and again, but that was about it. Bruce, in spite of everything, was really his closest friend. Followed closely by Dick. 

_Hm_.

At some point, Tim had lulled to sleep. Superman tried to touch down as gently as he could, but to no avail. All the batkids were light sleepers. 

“Mm?”

“We’re home.” 

His mother opened the door, and Clark gave her a kiss on the cheek.

“Hey, Ma.”

Tim was still rubbing his eyes as Clark greeted his dad. His ears pricked, picking up another occupant.

“Hey Con,” he said in low tone.

“Hey,” came the near-whispered reply from upstairs. 

After wishing his parents, Tim, and Conner goodnight, Clark got to experience the highlight of his day.

“Hey, Jonner!” He said, heaving as he picked up his son. The heaving was entirely reflexive, as the boy wasn’t heavy to him at all.He really only did it because, well, that was the sound dads made when they picked up their kids. He placed a kiss on Jon’s cheek.

“Dad,” Jon whined, “I’m too old for that.”

“Jonner, I solemnly swear to give you kisses until the day I die,” Clark said, nuzzling his son until he started to giggle. 

In truth, it sort of hurt his feelings that Jon wasn’t as open to affection anymore. When Clark was fifteen, Jon Kent Sr. had honked his horn from across a football field and wouldn’t leave until Clark shouted ‘ _I love you, too._ ’ 

_That_ had been one interesting band practice. 

“What’d you get up to, kiddo?” 

“Me and Damian did a puzzle, finished my LEGO set, and watched a movie about stars.”

During this debriefing, Lois had made her way over to him. She snaked her arms around Clark’s waist.

“You ever try watching a doc with a kid who knows everything?” She murmured.

“Kid and a doc? No,” Clark teased, “But I did _work_ with a know-it-all once.” 

“Good thing you knew enough to marry her.”

“I didn’t marry Jimmy.”

Lois snorted out a laugh and gave him a proper kiss. Jon made an obligatory sound of disgust and Clark finally put him down. 

“Good evening, Mr. Kent-Lane.”

Damian stood, back straight, midway down the stairs. He was already in pajamas. Silk.

“Good evening, young Mr. Wayne,” he responded playfully with a half bow. He really shouldn’t have, as he wasn’t sure if Damian understood the difference between teasing and mockery yet. 

In any case, Damian didn’t seem fazed.

“Any news on my father and Grayson?” 

“None yet,” he said, “But Bruce says he loves you and misses you very much.”

“No he didn’t.” 

Clark frowned. “Yes he did. And to behave.”

“That I believe.”

The boy turned to Jon.

“I corrected the star stickers in your bedroom to look like actual constellations.”

“Really? Cool!”

The pair went up to marvel at the galaxy in the form of glow in the dark decorations. 

Now alone, Clark pulled his wife close. 

“Why don’t we watch a movie, hm?”

“Read my mind, Smallville.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And if you look to your left, you’ll see a functional FUCking family ;_; 
> 
> I wrote this chapter because I was tired of a) angst and b) telling the story through either Bruce or Dick’s perspective 
> 
> Clark calls his two mini-Mes Conathan and Jonner fight me about it. Also, pretty sure John Kent should be dead, but I remembered in chapter three that Clark said Tim was staying with his parents, not his mom. So, John lives


	11. Witness Three

“I’m sorry you missed that party, Billy.”

“S’lright, Barry. I just dropped off his present and came here.”

Now free on the weekend, Captain Marvel managed to get to the watchtower early, with the rest of the council. After reviewing Flash’s record of the last two witnesses, J’onn spoke.

“Who’ll be up today?”

Diana rubbed her temples.

“I’m not sure. As it stands, we have four more witnesses to go through. Perhaps Green Arrow?”

“I think we should wait to interrogate him,” J’onn said, “At least after Batman’s other sons have been interviewed. It may help contextualize some of his input.”

“True,” Diana conceded, “but who knows what else will revealed? It’s not that I don’t trust Oliver, it’s just-“

“Gotta keep things on the need-to-know,” Barry interjected.

“Exactly.”

As though rehearsed, the three turned to earth’s champion.

“Well,” Billy pondered, drumming his fingers, “I figger that the information is by nature incriminating- dating his son or whatever.” He waved his hand. “I agree with J’onn; better save him.”

“Very well,” Diana said, “then we’re ready.”

————-

And so it was Jason called to the stand. He stood calm, cool and collected- and as per usual, contrarian. When bound to the lasso of truth, he swiveled his chair sideways to face Bruce. While not against protocol, it surely went against standard. 

Diana didn’t comment on it. 

With the start to the proceedings, Jason was asked his name and relation to the defendant. All the while, his hard eyes were fixed on Bruce. 

“‘Was his son.” 

His words slurred a little, and Wonder Woman requested clarification.

“I said I _was_ his son.”

Flash’s eyes flickered upward, but he took the note anyway.

“And how was it you came into Batman’s custody?”

When Bruce brought Dick in as a ward, it’d been on impulse. A surge of empathy and a sense of responsibility- that was it. The story of his second adoption was a touch different.

Bruce knew from jump Jason was like him.When Batman sized up the young thief stealing hubcaps from the Batmobile, he found his own pale blue eyes looking up at him, younger but just as weary. The look of someone who taught themselves to survive, and actively chose to. Though through circumstance Jason was more frayed and threadbare, he and Bruce were cut from the same cloth. Mistrusting and distrusting, succinct, and not even the lowest risks were taken without reason. 

The word ‘was’ had never held so much meaning, or so much pain. 

“You lived closely with both Batman and Nightwing, is that correct?” 

“Yes ma’am.”

“Can you describe their relationship at that point.”

“They were close. Extremely close.”

“Can you give an example?”

Jason huffed a laugh. “I can give plenty.”

“For one,” he said, “they we’re inseparable. Dick would hug and kiss Bruce a lot, especially at home.”

“And,” he added, “They shared a bedroom- they din’t stop until I told them it was weird.”

“And about how old was Nightwing at that point?”

“Seventeen.”

An uncomfortable silence filled the courtroom. Jason’s mouth twitched upward when he saw Dick turn a noticeable shade of pink. 

Jason certainly shared Bruce’s particular shade of vindictiveness. Dick could spew the most searing insults in an act of rage. Jason, however, was much more exacting. Very rarely did he snap at people for more than an irritation. When Jason was really angry, he got quiet. He had quite enough time to stew on Dick and Bruce’s coupling, and he evidently wasn’t happy about it.

Without prompting from interrogator, Jason continued his narrative.

“After that, though, things changed. Dick wanted to go to college, and to stop being Robin, and Bruce wasn’t havin’ that. They would go at each other over any damn thing. It was awful.” 

As noted, Barbara was privy to the arguing, but Jason went into far more detail as an insider. It was arguably the worst year of Dick’s life, possibly second to the first year without his parents. 

It _was_ awful. Dick’s temper combined with Bruce’s calculated nature made for some brutal fights. Bruce was never one to forgive or forget, and so every new argument felt more like the continuation of the first. He would pick at flaws and insecurities, patterns of behavior- all carefully selected to do damage. Dick, meanwhile, threw everything he had at once, forcefully and without discrimination. Adding to the vitriol was the subtext. 

By that point, it was known to both of them the true nature of their feelings for one another. They were not father and son as they constantly pretended. They were not brothers, or friends. Years of suppressed desire became twisted and spilled into all their interactions. It was like they were actively trying to convince themselves they hated each other. 

Jason didn’t know all that, obviously, but he witnessed everything else. 

“It was still kinda rough after Dick left,” Jason said. “Bruce was mean.” 

“Did he hit you?”

“Unless sparring counts, no. He just wouldn’t talk to nobody- not me, or Alfred. Not until I officially became Robin.” 

At this point, his jaw clenched. Wonder Woman gave a polite pause before continuing. 

“Can you describe what that role was like?”

Another bitter huff. “You ever feel like a third wheel? Like that, but there’s only two of you.” 

Dick rolled his eyes. Christ, Jason was so dramatic. Bruce was moody and insufferable, but had nothing but love for Jason Todd. If Jay felt like a third wheel, it was only because he took everything personally.

“Even though things had gotten nasty between them, it was like Dick was still on some fucking pedestal-“

“Oh _shut up_ , Jay,” Dick snapped, “Bruce _adored_ you-“ 

_“-After I started acting like **you**!”_ Jason roared, now on his feet. He heaved, balling his hands into fists. 

Diana pulled the lasso tightly and commanded to settle himself. 

“And another outburst from you, Nightwing,” she chided sharply, “and you will be removed from court.” She turned to the witness. “Mr. Todd, if you’ll continue.”

Still seething, Jason shrugged. “There’s nothing more,” he said gruffly, “I fucking died. Then I came back and found that I’d already been replaced.”

With that, he tugged the lasso off and stormed out. 

After a moment of stunned silence, Captain Marvel spoke. 

“Well,” he said, clapping his hands, “I think that’ll do it for this morning. We’ll break for lunch and reconvene at one. Court dismissed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m alive! And school is,,,,hardt 
> 
> “Figger” in is supposed to be how Billy says ‘figure’ if that wasn’t clear.


	12. The Interim

“Alfred made you lunch.”

Dick took a seat next to Bruce on his bunk and handed him a little package. Bruce wasn’t really allowed to be left alone with a visitor, but Dick argued that since Superman was equipped with both super hearing and x-ray vision, it was technically a supervised visit. The illusion of privacy wasn’t much, but it was better than being separated. 

“How do you think we’re doing?”

“I dunno, Bruce. Mostly I just feel humiliated. I knew the testimony was going to invasive, but...”

“I wasn’t listening. I had my eye on Billy.” 

“And?” 

“Nothing. He’s unreadable.”

“Sounds familiar.” 

Bruce wasn’t particularly amused, and Dick sucked his teeth. 

“Bruce, really- can we talk about something else? _Anything_ else?” He swung his legs onto Bruce’s lap and seated himself at the cots edge, back pressed against a tiny dresser. Dick would’ve liked to hold him instead, but Bruce wasn’t much of a cuddler, and especially not under observation. “Not like we can do much at this point. You played your card with the judge, and that’s it, right?”

“...Right.” 

Dick knew that tone, but didn’t press. 

“So, other than our current predicament, what’s been on your mind?”

“The affects of prolonged isolation on the individual.”

“Oh _god._ ”

“You said we could talk about anything.” The corners of his mouth turned up- which by Bruce’s standards, was about as lighthearted as he could be.

“The implication was that we’d talk about something _happy_.” 

“Is there ever anything happy on my mind?” 

Dick snorted out a laugh. “Christ, I wouldn’t know,” he conceded with an overly dramatic sigh, “Fine. Tell me all about it.”

Dick closed his eyes and listened. Bruce’s eloquence was one of his strongest traits. More than what he said, Dick enjoyed the quality of Bruce’s voice itself. It wasn’t as deep as Captain Marvel’s rumble, or as high as Clark’s neutral tenor. For the most part, outside of an accent that was distinctly high class Gotham, he was monotonous, any other emphasis intentional. 

“Have you heard the statement that society makes us human?”

“Uh, sure. Yeah, it was in my soc class. It was used to refer to feral children.” 

Bruce nodded. “Right. But I realized it goes a little further than that. Society makes and maintains our humanity, too.” 

On matters where Bruce could be emotionally distant, words flowed with confidence and precision. This was a stark contrast to the voice that reached out to Dick in the dark, the quiet vulnerabilities that eked out with profound effort. 

“So that’s why they go crazy, ya think? They lose their humanity?”

It was one of the many things that about Bruce that made him sad. Dick wasn’t exactly an open book and he sure as hell wasn’t some crybaby, but he came from a place where things were different. In the circus, emotion made the difference between a routine and a performance. John Grayson wasn’t afraid to wear outrageous outfits or express himself. Mary never made him feel like less of a man for it. 

“Exactly. I’ve seen interviews with those who’ve been on death row for decades. Their words slur and they ramble. They’ve lost all sense of self because they have no one to affirm their identity.”

Bruce lived a different life. Dick couldn’t be sure, but from the pictures he’d seen of Thomas Wayne, he was almost as tight lipped as Bruce, though not quite as severe. Expectations of maintaining an image, coupled with Alfred’s rearing and Bruce’s natural introversion made him emotionally closed off. 

Dick bit his lip. “That was like, uh, the Pennsylvania system, right? Solitary as a reformation tool.” 

Bruce nodded. “Eastern State Penitentiary was the first to institute it. In its first years, prisoners were held entirely in solitary and forbidden to speak to others.” 

Dick carried a heavy burden as the first person (since Alfred) that Bruce opened up to. He carried that burden with pride. It made his and Bruce’s relationship something special. It was draining, of course, but Bruce did his part as Dick’s confidant as well. 

“It’s crazy,” Dick mused. “You put someone in a box with the most dangerous and depraved people in the world, and the most fucked up thing you can do to him is leave him by himself.” 

Bruce could only agree. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *insert heavy handed metaphor for Bruce being extremely isolated*
> 
> Honestly I just wanted more interaction between Dick and Bruce. Side question: how do you guys imagine Bruce’s voice sounding like? I mean besides Kevin Conroy, I really like the voice for Batman in justice league the new frontier. I imagine he’d have a middle toned, almost nasally voice but idk


	13. Witness 4, Part 1

“I was 2-years-old when I met Dick Grayson for the first time.” 

Dick honestly didn’t remember meeting the Drakes. Apparently it was during his last tour with Haley’s circus. The last stop before Gotham. 

“I don’t really remember,” Tim explained, “But my parents kept the picture we took with them.”

“Them?”

“The Flying Graysons.”

Dick folded his arms over so much so that his shoulders jutted forward. He was almost ashamed of how little he thought of his parents. Life in the circus was something he reminisced about, and longed for- but it was an abstract nostalgia. He wanted the lights, the colors, excitement, and the sense of being home; not particular people. Timmy was 17. Had fifteen years gone by already? 

Alfred placed a hand on his knee, but Dick wasn’t quite sure what it was he needed comfort for. 

“We moved to Gotham when I was 12, and I became totally fixated with Batman.” 

From the inside looking out, it seemed crazy that more people hadn’t made the connection between Bruce Wayne and Batman. Who else in Gotham had the time and money? There were never any sightings of the Bat when Bruce Wayne was on ‘’vacation’’. How hard could possibly be to figure out Gotham’s most popular people were one and the same?

Pretty hard, as it turned out. 

“At first, I thought Batman was some sort of meta,” Tim explained, “but the sightings and accounts of him were too varied to pin down what powers he might have. I then considered that it was gang of different men- but there was only ever one sighting at a time. I had to conclude, despite all odds, that it was _one man_ who was taking on crime in Gotham.” 

He paused.

“That was, until I figured out he had help.” 

All things considered, being Robin was among the best times in Dick’s life. In the beginning of his side kick career, he was relegated to strictly backup; Batman’s eye in the sky, so to speak. It was only after a year or two that he was allowed to go in with him, where they’d take on fights together. He was proud to have been a Robin. 

“In all the police interrogations I saw, almost no one mentioned a sidekick. A few mistook him for a woman, or a short man, or a blur of dizzying colors. I suspect more knew about him, but were too ashamed to admit they lost a fight to someone so small.”

“And then, after about five years, Robin went on hiatus. Nightwing popped up in Blüdhaven shortly after, but it was full year before Robin was sighted again. I realized Robin had been a kid, and now Batman was working with a new one.”

Bruce lip curled inward. He’d known full well Jason wasn’t meant to Robin. He was too independent, too spiteful- too much like him. Dick had known too, and (in the midst of an argument) said that if Bruce put Jay in harms way, he’d never talk to him again. 

But Batman needed a Robin. Bruce needed a Robin. And Jason needed _something_ \- vigilante work tended to give one a sense of purpose. So, he took him on. Gave him the training and carefully refined Jason’s instincts until he was a formidable opponent and worthy partner. 

“This kid didn’t say too long,” Tim continued, “only a year and a half. And there wasn’t any new vigilantes, or a replacement. I knew something had gone wrong.” 

Something had gone _horribly_ wrong. Finding Jason’s small, broken body was the worst night of Bruce’s life. It’d been so cold that night. The rubble was still on fire in some places, but it was still so, so cold.

To this day, he had periodic nightmares about it. What was happening in them was always different- sometimes Bruce was being chased, or being held down, or drowning, on fire- but always he felt cold, and most of the time, Jason’s voice rang in his head.

_ “I’m going to save my mom.”  _

He’d picked up his son and knew that he’d fought hard. His soldier died a hero. 

Jason’s death was the single greatest failure of Batman’s career. That did not make Jason a failure in Bruce’s eyes. No, in spite of everything, of all the grief, he was proud. Jason, at fourteen years of age, single handedly pursued the Joker. The fact that he lost was no one’s fault but his mentor. 

Flash, having been quiet for the majority of witness testimony, spoke up.

“So, wait, how did you actually figure out who it was?” 

Tim thought about it a minute. 

“I can’t remember when exactly Bruce Wayne went in my radar. I knew I was looking for a man. Someone who had the nights off, who was possibly police trained, with some level of fighting prowess. By the time I came along, Batman had been active for something like 20 years, so I knew he was older- somewhere between 40 and 60. Given Gotham’s population, that narrowed it down to something like 900,000 men.” 

“Sometime after mapping out a timeline, I became entrenched in an online community of websleuths, interested in superheroes like me.” 

“The identity of Batman was a hotly debated topic. Some thought he was a cop, or an ex-con- there were a lot of people still convinced that he was a meta or more than one person. There was one conspiracy that was disproven over and over- that Bruce Wayne was Batman.”

If there was one thing Bruce didn’t get enough credit for, it was his ability to evade suspicion. Most of the people regarded the Wayne heir as a coddled idiot- that is, if they gave any thought to him at all. His absence from the public sphere was deliberate, often explained away as business or vacation. His entire life, even the years leading up to Batman, were designed to be interpreted differently. 

“People usually had ready-made excuses for why Bruce Wayne wasn’t Batman. They said he was too dumb, too sheltered, too lazy or too busy. Anyone who believed the Wayne theory was a crackpot.”

Captain Marvel seemed intrigued. “Then how did you come to believe it?” 

“I realized that the Wayne theory was the only one that was never seriously scrutinized. It wasn’t a wild conspiracy- it was a cover up.” 

Tim described how he gone through the forum, reading every thread. There were apparently different users responding each time, but certain similarities ran between them. Including- but not limited to- British spelling. 

“I knew it was one or two people stirring the pot to make it sound crazy. I went back and mapped Batman’s timeline to Bruce Wayne’s. Everything that could be confirmed matched up perfectly. The thing that tied it all together though, was the picture I took with the Graysons. Their costumes fit the description of Robin’s.” 

“How old were you when you figured out who Batman was?”

“14, ma’am.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> K so I’m kind of an idiot and wrote Timmys whole ass origin (with major liberty’s taken, of course) so yea. My timeline of events jumps in and out of canon. Anyway, since this ran for so long I’m just going to split it into two chapters. 
> 
> Also, I have another fanfic I’m working on! It’s Jimmy Olsen/Bruce Wayne (don’t ask) so feel free to read that too if you want.


	14. Witness Four, Part Two

Dick remembered the second time he met Tim Drake. It’d been three years after Jason died. He opened the door to some twerp who opened with _“I know you’re Nightwing.”_

He slammed the door shut and called it a day. 

But Tim kept coming. Stalking Wayne Manor at all hours, insisting he be allowed to talk to Bruce. After some time, Dick and Alfred simply relented. Tim laid all his evidence out in the parlor room. At the end of it, Bruce heaved a sigh. 

_“So what do you want? Money?”_

_“I want to be Robin.”_

Tim recounted the scene. 

“He freaked out,” he explained, “started yelling that he didn’t do that anymore. When I insisted that I’d do anything, he slammed me against a wall. Nightwing pulled him off me.” 

Dick was also the one who convinced Bruce to take another Robin. If there was one thing Tim had right, it was that Bruce needed a sidekick- someone to balance, restrain, and support him. Out of the four, it was Tim who’d fought hardest to be Robin, as he had no athletic or fighting experience. In that way, he was easily the most deserving of the title. It’d taken almost two years of training; more than any of them. 

“How would you describe their relationship at that point?”

“They were very attached to each other. I figured it was because of Jason, but Dick told me it was always like that. I don’t know...I think Bruce relied on him a lot.” 

“To what degree?”

“An extreme degree. There’s a concept of emotional incest that I think applies. Bruce treated Dick like a romantic partner more so than a son. Even before they...” he swallowed hard. “Ya know. The signs are all there- Dick’s trouble with boundaries, forming long lasting relationships, promiscuity, emotional strife, and now, with Bruce.” 

Dick rolled his eyes. It was just like Tim to play armchair psychologist. It wasn’t like the reliance wasn’t reciprocal; that’s what people did when they were in love. Relied on each other. 

“If I can inquire,” J’onn asked, “what motivated you to report Batman to the league?” 

“I was worried about Dick, firstly. This isn’t healthy. And Damian as well- he gets on my nerves, but I still want him to be safe.” 

“What are you insinuating?” The Martian pried, “That Batman would target his own son?” 

Tim looked incredulous. “Well, hasn’t he _done_ that already? Do you honestly think someone could have sex with someone who _raised_ them without coercion involved?” 

“That’s what we’re trying to judge, Mr. Drake,” Wonder Woman replied, “and unless you have evidence that something is amiss-“

“ _Everything_ is amiss!” Tim snapped. Wonder Woman’s eyes locked on him, evidently not appreciating the interruption. He settled himself before continuing.  
  


“I...I love Bruce. I do. But it’s not like anything is normal in our house. The rules are different. I figured out _yesterday_ that he put a tracker in my shoe.”

Bruce hummed. Thought he’d _never_ put it together. 

Tim took a shaky breath in and tugged at his hair. 

“Last month- when I suspect this affair started- Dick came home screaming that there were hidden cameras in his apartment. They were Bruce’s.” 

An uneasy silence took the counsel. 

“And, ya know,” Tim continued, “I expected Bruce to do that. To track me. I did everything I could think of to avoid being followed because I _knew_ he would.And I wasn’t even surprised about what he did to Dick with the camera.”

“After Dick told me the truth, I snapped. I started rethinking everything about my time knowing Bruce and being a Robin. Is _anything_ he does normal, even by vigilante standards?”

Diana scanned her constituents. 

“We have no further questions, Mr. Drake, thank you.” 

“All I know is,” Tim added, standing up. “Bruce plays for the long run, always. Now that Dick has come out with this, we have his endgame.” He took off the lasso as Diana rolled it back up.  
  


Billy leaned back. “That’ll conclude the proceeding for today, thank you. Same time tomorrow- court dismissed.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you’ve read “Points of View” this series is the follow up that what Tim refers to in this chapter is what happens in that one shot


	15. Big Dinner Night

Like usual, Tim, Clark, and Jason congregated at the transporter at the Hall of Justice. Before the brothers could exchange goodbyes, the Kansan interrupted.

“Hey, Jay,” said Clark, “Saturday is big dinner night at my parents house. You should stay over.” 

Instead of the flat out rejection he expected, Jason gave him a hard look. 

“You are an _angel_ , you know that?” 

Clark smiled. “That a yes?” 

A shrug. “Ah, sure.” 

The fly over should have been a little more crowded, but if there was one thing Superman could do, it was make room for more. 

——-

This also translated into Kents’ household.It was a modest farmhouse, already at capacity when Clark walked in with his guests. Conner was keeping John Sr. company in the den. Superman greeted them with a hug and hair ruffle, respectively. 

Jonathan had already set the table, and got another placement without being told. Damian had pitched in with organizing the platters on the dining room table. He gave only a curt nod to Tim and Jason.

“Hey Ma,” Clark said, poking his head in the kitchen, “Got one more- ya need help with that?” 

He came back out with the evening’s main dish, a rotisserie chicken. He set it down as Tim got the door for Lois, who’d made mashed potatoes at her house. Conner got drinks for everyone. After some shifting, nine people (although Clark, Conner, and Jason were each nearly the size of two) sat themselves around a table for six. It provided a stark contrast to Wayne Manor, a place of seemingly endless space, where two dozen people might live and never know someone else was there. 

Clark sat at the head of the table, with Lois and Jonathan on either side. Damian sat sandwiched between Con and Jon, across from Tim and Jason. Ma and Pa Kent shared the other end of the table. 

“Shame Kara couldn’t make it,” Lois noted.

“Out on some League mission,” Conner replied.

Not wanting to discuss anything league related, Clark changed the subject. “How was school today, Jonner?”

“S’alright. I wanna sign up for the science fair, but I dunno if I’ll be good enough to win.”

His grandfather chimed in.

“What do I ya all the time, son?”

“I’m a Kent, not a can’t.”

“That’s right,” Martha agreed, “and you won’t know if you don’t try.”

“And even if you don’t win,” finished Clark, “what matters is if you have fun, and learn something new.” 

The three Wayne children exchanged a look. It was like being trapped in some sci-fi Norman Rockwell painting. Could people really be this wholesome? 

After some polite conversation, Damian reached the end of his patience.

“Has my father been acquitted yet?”

The clatter and chatter of plates drew to a halt. All eyes on Clark.

“Uh..” he started, “Not yet, bud.”

He sucked his teeth. “Pity. You know,” he added, turning to his brothers, “I’m jealous that you get to defend father’s honor.” 

And just like that, it all went to shit. 

Jason laughed and Tim flared. “You think I’m _defending_ him?” He snapped. “Why the fu-“

“Hey, hey! Language, guys-“

“You testified against your own father?”

Jason leaned in. “Uh, yea. In case you haven’t noticed, our dad is even more of a creep than previously thought.”

“Now, boys, don’t-“

“You’re traitors!”

“ _We’re_ traitors?!” Tim snapped.

“That’s fucking _rich_!”

“Jason!”

“I thought Bruce was fucking Rich?”

“Lois!”

Conner spit up his drink and Jason slammed the table and laughed harder. “You’re _sick_ , Lois, ya know that?”

She shrugged. “Just trying to get the story straight.” 

Clark pinched the bridge of his nose. “Look, I’m not so sure we should be discussing the case.”

“I don’t know why not,” Martha piped up.

“Ma, don’t,” Clark pleaded. 

“Your mother’s right,” John agreed, “Big dinner night is air out night. Now’s as good a time as any to talk about it.” 

“Plus,” added Lois, taking a sip of her iced tea, “it’s bound to be more interesting than anything we have to talk about.” 

That was the real reason. If there was one vice the Kents were guilty of, it was gossip. And Lois would never, _ever_ pass up the opportunity for a decent story. Clark’s nostrils flared.

“I’m surprised you haven’t cut Bruce off completely over this,” his wife added. God, she knew how to start, didn’t she? 

“You’re still friends with him?” Jason asked incredulously. “You’re _okay_ with this?”

“ _No._ ”

“It’s because he’s loyal!” Damian yelled. 

“That’s not it-“ Clark mumbled.

“Was I talkin’ to you?”

“That is it, though,” Tim concluded dryly, “Bruce is his friend. He’ll let him get away with everything- even child endangerment.”

“In my defense,” Clark retorted, “Bruce has been endangering his children... for...years.” He turned pink. 

“I’ve been thinking about it,” Tim said, playing with his mashed potatoes, “Bruce really had no business letting me be a vigilante. Or any of us- but I showed up after his last sidekick died.”

“I really shoulda been a wake up call,” Jason added, resting his arm on Tim’s chair. “I didn’t even die quickly. That shit hurt.” 

“What did you tell Bruce after Jason was killed?” Tim asked. From the way his eyes stared with quiet accusation, he already knew the answer. 

Clark looked down. “I told him it wasn’t his fault.” 

Jason chuckled, bitterly this time. “Whose fault was it then? _Mine_?” 

What else was he supposed to say? Bruce had been broken beyond repair. Was he supposed to rub it in, and say ‘that’s what you get for letting a kid enlist in war?’

“You don’t even let Jonner fight,” Conner said.

“An’ I got superpowers!” 

“I thought being a hero was what I wanted,” Tim continued, “But then I lost everything. And Bruce knew I’d lose everything, because he had, too.” 

It was quiet again.

“So the question is, why would he do that? Why would he let children fight with him? Rely on him for _everything_?” 

Superman clenched his jaw. “You’re making hefty accusations, Tim. I know Bruce is a good person.”

“You know,” asked Jason, “or you don’t want to think about what it means for you if he isn’t?” 

The man of steel had no answer. 

“I don’t know if we can guess what his intentions were,” said John Sr. “Batman seems to me to be a man five steps ahead of everyone even when he’s walkin’ slow. Only thing we can judge him on is what he’s done- and even then, we shouldn’t condemn.” 

“What he’s done,” sneered Damian, “is enter into a relationship with another adult.”

“...That he raised from childhood,” finished Lois. “That’s pretty weird.”

Damian stabbed his chicken with unneeded ferocity. “I was taught grandfather was good. Then my father was good and grandfather was evil. And now father is evil too? Which is it?” 

That hurt to hear. Clark felt bad for this kid, and this was a perfect example why. Bruce was undoubtedly a better parent than Talia, but the nuances of morality would take years for him to sort through and learn. Even if Bruce was wrong for this, he wasn’t wrong for _everything_. 

“I dunno,” shrugged Conner, “I think lots of things are pretty weird. I don’t think that makes it wrong.” He looked at Tim and added “But, like, I get it.” 

“Being weird isn’t wrong,” agreed Jon, “But I think this is...more than weird.” He very obviously didn’t want Damien to be mad at him. 

Like Conner didn’t want Tim to be mad at him.

...Like Clark didn’t want Bruce to be mad at him. 

The older Kryptonian sighed. “The thing is, I _do_ think it’s wrong. And I get wanting to cut him off,” he said to the older boys, “and I get wanting to accept it and move on,” he added to Damian. “I want to do both.” He took a bite before continuing. “Bruce is my friend- and ya know, Dick’s my friend, too. Or, they were anyway. I don’t know if they’ll even want anything to do with me after this.”

”Point being, I wouldn’t be their friend if I thought they were bad people. I’ve known them longer than all three of you, and I still don’t have all they answers.” 

“But you know who does,” said Lois, “The butler guy. Pennyworth.” 

“He testifies tomorrow,” Clark reflected. “He’s the only one with the whole story.” 

Martha stood and collected her dish.

“Who wants pie?” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the purposes of this story, Jon isn’t superboy. Any way merry Christmas n happy new year n shit


	16. The Boy

“Can you state your name for the record?”

The court was quiet today.

“Alfred Pennyworth, ma’am.” 

It’d been quiet every day.

“Relationship to the the defendant?”

But this was different. 

“Erm,” he sucked his teeth quietly, “Butler and personal assistant, officially.” 

It was _silent_. Batman scanned the room, and found nothing but living statues.

“Mm. Can you tell us your first encounter with the defendant?” 

The old man huffed dry laugh. “I knew Master Bruce since he was just a twinkle in his mother’s eye.” 

“An answer devoid of metaphor would better suffice, Mr. Pennyworth,” Wonder Woman said clinically. 

Alfred cleared his throat. “Right. I was in the Wayne’s employ round about five years before boy’s birth. I met him the day he come home from the hospital.” 

It was strange to think of a time where Alfred wasn’t a part of Bruce’s day to day. As a toddler, he was tended to by his parents (of course) and a squad of nannies. One taught him music, another Spanish, another still how to read. Bruce couldn’t remember names or faces anymore, just skirt hems and unintelligible voices. Alfred stuck out to Bruce just about as much as the wallpaper most days. 

“The Manor was better staffed then,” Alfred explained, “Chefs, gardeners, cleaners, nannies for the boy, chauffeurs and the like. I managed them, of course, and eventually took on whatever task the Wayne’s couldn’t trust anyone else to do.” 

Bruce could only vaguely recall that shift- he’d been, what? Six? In any case, the older man had started to color the backdrop of everyday, and more memories of him dotted that period of his life. He was struck, with sudden clarity, by a small moment of Alfred helping him color at the dining room table. 

“Is it correct that Bruce was orphaned at ten?”

“No, ma’am. He was eight when it happened.”

Diana took a notation before continuing. “Can you tell me what happened?” 

Bruce’s fist clenched without him meaning to. Similarly, Alfred’s leg dipped to the side and back again. He crossed them at the ankles to make it seem intentional. After a tug at his suit and a sigh, he started. 

“It was a normal enough night. Erm, a Thursday, funny enough. Mattie and Tom decided to treat the boy to a movie.”

_Zorro._

“Unguarded?”

_Eight o’clock showing._

“Well, of course,” Alfred huffed, “Wasn’t their first time outside. Besides, one’s first line of defense to simply stay low.” 

Bruce got tired halfway through the film. He requested- then _demanded_ , like the petulant brat he was, that they leave that instant.

“The area’s called crime alley, now, of course, but it wasn’t back then. Back then, it was nicer. Figured it’d be okay for one night.”

They left discreetly out the back. 

The alley was damp.

A man. A gun. 

Words. 

**Bang.**

Pearls. 

**Bang.**

If he’d just sat through the movie, it wouldn’t have happened. 

Alfred swallowed. “Call come in at 9:43pm exactly. The boy had asked for me.” 

Bruce didn’t remember leaving the alley, or even how long he’d been there. His next memory was the police station, wrapped in an oversized coat. He’d asked for his mom and dad several times. The police officer said he couldn’t do that, so Alfred it was. 

“I ended up having to identify their bodies- by photo, you know.” He pursed his lips a little, like a quiet reflection, “Anyway, then I took the boy home, and then became his legal guardian.” 

They’d stayed up all night, the silence only broken when Bruce asked him what it meant to be dead.

“Mr. Pennyworth,” Martian Manhunter interjected, “I’m curious: what changes occurred in Bruce’s behavior?” 

Alfred shifted. “Well, prior to, he was curious- precocious, you know. Asked lots of questions. He was a good boy- a little prone to tantrums, though I don’t know a child who isn’t. And after,” he sighed, “he just... went into himself, like. Afraid of everything, too. The outside, new people, the dark- everything frightened him.”

For months, every light in Wayne manor was kept on at all times. Bruce developed a sort of neurosis about it, along with locking the doors. Before bed, he’d go around the manor with Alfred armed with a flashlight. He’d insist on checking the attic, every cupboard, closet, and under every single bed, to make sure nothing was hiding in the shadows. It wasn’t by accident that he transformed himself into the thing that went bump in the night.

J’onn nodded. “And what did you do to help him?

“Whatever I could, sir. Fired all the staff, for one-“

“Why’d you do that?” Flash asked.

Alfred looked sour. “ _Someone_ was telling the paparazzi our comings and goings, and I didn’t have the time to figure out who, so I got rid of everyone.”

“Did you...at least get him a grief counselor?” 

“For one bleedin’ session, yea,” retorted Alfred sharply, “Sold Bruce’s statements to the press. The bastard had _one_ session with him and he _still_ does interviews about it.” He looked down, adding, “People are _vultures_ , Mr. Allen, and the Wayne murders were perfect fodder.”

“Mm-hm,” The Amazon  hummed. “Tell me, Mr. Pennyworth- why did the Wayne’s name you as Bruce’s guardian?”

Alfred shifted again.

“They didn’t, ma’am.” 

Batman’s mouth twisted downwards. 

“Thomas’ brother Phillip was.”

He remembered this part _very_ well. 

“He...erm, didn’t want the boy.”

Most people assumed Bruce had no living relatives, but in truth they were just estranged. After his father’s death, the Waynes fell in line with Philip as the new patriarch of the family. Being the selfish, greedy bastard he was, Philip wanted nothing to do with a traumatized child- Bruce simply wasn’t _worth it_. The only Wayne to defend Bruce was his great Aunt Agatha, the other family pariah. She, however, remained unfit to care for him on account of her old age and mental instability, but she remained the _only_ Wayne welcome at the manor until she died. 

Shipping Bruce out to his mother’s brother made even less sense. Uncle Jacob was military and so was his wife, Gabi-he’d be on the move constantly, and largely in the care of strangers. That setting was deemed unfit for a child already going through such a big adjustment. 

“As it stood,” Alfred explained to the court, “I was the most fit and willing to care for him. So I did.” 

“So it was just you two?”

“Yes, Ma’am. Just us two.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I debated on whether or not Alfred should call flash by name but fuck it he’s Alfred and probably knew all of their secret identities before Bruce did somehow
> 
> Also, I know I mention Kate’s parents, but I don’t see her showing up for anything so? There ya go


	17. The Man

“The thing you have to realize,” Alfred announced to the court, “Is that I never intended to be his father.”

Continuing with questions without a break for lunch was an interesting choice, especially given Barry’s metabolic rate (at present, he was munching on a protein bar and typing with one hand). Nevertheless, Bruce was glad to press on. He wanted to get this over with.

“In fact, for a good while, we were just two people stuck in a house together. I suspect,” Alfred explained with a heavy sigh, “that I took too long to take control of his life. I left him alone for too long.” 

Bruce didn’t remember anything distinct from the months after. In fact, most of it was a blur. He didn’t know for how long exactly, but for a good while he simply existed. Waste the day away and waste along with it, in his own quiet little abyss. 

“He’d sit around for hours,” the old man said morosely, “hardly ate, and that’s just about all he did.” 

“Why didn’t you help him?”

“Didn’t know how, and I was afraid of making things worse.” Alfred sat quietly, reflecting, “After some time, I couldn’t take anymore. I yelled at him, told him he couldn’t live like this. I shouldn’t have yelled.” 

Wonder Woman added that to her personal notes. The way her eyes flicked back to look at him was concerning. Accusatory.

“It was around that time I knew, erm...”

“That Bruce was a homosexual?” 

“Well, I’d had my suspicions, you know- but yes.”

“When did you put it together?”

Alfred cleared his throat. “Ah, the boy grew close to the man investigating his parents’ murder- a rookie who had no business on a high profile case, mind you- but Jim Gordon was kind to him, and Bruce...took a shining to him is all.” 

“Did he ever admit to you that he was a homosexual?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Did you tell him that you knew?”

“No, ma’am, but he knew I knew.”

“Did you ever speak to him about it at _all_?”

“No, ma’am.”

“Did you ever tell him it was acceptable to be a homosexual?”

“No, ma’am.”

Wonder Woman looked hard at him.

“Mr. Pennyworth, do you love Bruce?”

“Of course.”

“Did you ever once tell him that?”

Alfred’s eyes flashed. 

“Well, I _showed_ him I loved him, is all.”

“So no?”

He looked down, a quiet horror taking on his expression. His attention snapped to Batman. His voice a whisper, but fully audible in the silence of the court. 

“ _You knew_...didn’t you?” 

Of course he knew. Alfred did more for him then anyone, and he wasn’t doing it for a paycheck. But it wouldn’t do the situation any good to answer, so he didn’t. Batman stayed motionless, expressionless, eyes fixed on the space in front of him, not the person who inhabited it. 

“Mr. Pennyworth, at what point did Bruce convey an interest in vigilantism?” 

The old man sat back. “We were watching a movie. That’s what I did back then, to get him out of it- put on old movies. They fixated him on something other than-“

“Answer the question, please.”

“He was about ten at the time. I don’t know when exactly he got in his head, but he told me that when he was older, he was going to make crime not exist anymore.”

“That was his exact wording?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“And your response?”

His brow furrowed. “I told him he could do whatever he wanted, but he was going to do it the correct way.” 

“You knew that’s where his mind was, and you did nothing to discourage it?”

Alfred’s lips were so tight they practically disappeared. He was clearly irate now. It reminded Bruce of how he used to scold him. With a voice that was frightfully balanced, he looked Diana in the eyes. 

“It was the first sign of life I’d seen in years, of _course_ I encouraged it,” he fired back, “I thought it was the fancy of a child- how was I to know it’d turn into this?” His eyes narrowed some as he added, “It was a miscalculation on my part- one that the _entire world_ is lucky I made.” 

Diana’s expression didn’t change, nor did she shift in her chair. She was, however, without retort, which said volumes by itself. 

“Very well,” she conceded, “how did you aid Bruce in pursuing his interests?”

“Well, just as you might encourage anything, I suppose,” Alfred pondered, “Gave him the tools. Taught him how to box, how to act, how to strategize, and how to disguise himself- whatever I thought he might need.” 

“And you were proficient in these things?”

“That’s one way to put it, yes.” 

They moved on to Bruce’s high school years. Like most of his life, it wasn’t a time he looked back on fondly. Outwardly, as per usual, he was exceptional: all honors and AP, ranked first all four years, debate team captain, student council, fencing, weight training, track, piano and violin, Latin and Greek- something of a self made prodigy. He wasn’t any more social, though. His classmates excluded and actively avoided him. It was the first time in his life he intimidated the people around him. 

“Everything I gave him,” Alfred explained, “He wanted more. More skills, more knowledge, more freedom. Instead of slowing down, his obsession gained momentum.”

“Did you oblige him?”

“As much as I could. I just wanted him to be safe.” Alfred pursed his lips. “He had no friends to speak of, so his life was just this... _mission_ that he imposed on himself.”

“Was he happy at this time?”

Alfred huffed. 

“On the contrary. He was actively making himself more miserable. It didn’t matter, he wouldn’t quit no matter what I did.” 

Genuine pain flashed across his face. 

“He just...refused to let anyone in.” 

He rested his and on his elbow, deeply contemplative. 

“I knew I couldn’t keep him inside forever, and I was right. On his 18th, I brought a birthday cake into an empty room. Slipped into the night, like it was nothing. Like I was nothing.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just have this image in my head of Alfred carrying a slice of cake into an empty room and the wind blowing the candle out. 
> 
> I hope that I conveyed the complexity of Alfred and Bruce’s relationship :P 
> 
> Also, I debated on whether or not Bruce would be bi or gay. I usually headcannon him as bi, but for the purpose of this story, I’ll say gay, with the exception of Talia? Maybe? (It should be noted that also headcannon Bruce as being uncomfortable with labels, so perhaps my uncertainty is appropriate) Also, fuck it Bruce was in love w Jim Gordon idc


	18. The Batman

The chief problem with his upbringing, Bruce realized, was that Alfred never wanted to be a parent. Taking care of him _at all_ was an act of charity beyond anything the Englishman was required to do- the amount of devotion he had for Bruce was unparalleled. Everyday, he was grateful for the man, and knew he wouldn’t be alive without him. 

Even so, privately, quietly, it’d never quite felt like they belonged together. Alfred was not his father, even if Bruce had (very sparingly) referred to him as such. And though Bruce very much acted like his son- with all the obedience and rebellion, respect and boundary pushing- they simply weren’t bonded that way. Or, maybe it was that they were bonded in multiple ways, but not fully in any particular manner. Their relationship (like every other relationship Bruce ever had) was...complicated. 

“He didn’t come back home for another seven years.” 

Also a parallel to every relationship in Bruce’s life, he’d hurt Alfred. Deeply. He had up and left, callously, as Alfred described. In his defense (if any could be made) it was a necessity. His guardian prepared him for his mission the way one might support their child’s hobby. Even as revenge and violence filled Bruce’s every waking moment, Alfred failed to anticipate that this ludicrous fantasy would materialize. If he had, Batman would’ve died in utero. 

“What did you do in the interim?”

“Nothing special,” Alfred said, pursing his lips, “Keeping the manor in order, an eye on the news. Took up gardening again, that was nice. Book club. Would’ve written my memoir if half of it wasn’t classified information.” 

Diana remained unamused. “I’m curious to know at what point the Batman identity was born. Tell me about that.” 

“Certainly. Erm, Batman was something of an accident, I’d say,” he explained, “Something of a necessity as well.” 

That much was true. On his return to Gotham, Bruce knew what he wanted to be. A shadow, an enforcer, the purge. What form that would take, he wasn’t sure. One thing was obvious; he couldn’t go out as Bruce Wayne. 

“Odd practically, you heroes have,” Alfred mused, “I’m sure all of you had to sit downand think of your little persona. Bruce and I bounced around ideas for a little while.”

The amount of rejected names was comical if not absurd. They cycled through a multitude of concepts. “The Shadow”, “The Count” (in which Bruce would masquerade as a vampire)- Alfred even threw out “The Spider Man”, on the grounds that spiders were scary. That was a hard no. He needed to invoke something deeper than a common phobia. Something subtle, primal, to ensure that even if you weren’t afraid of the _thing_ , you’d be afraid of _him_. Bruce was already a scary person, at a burly 6’2, but that wouldn’t be anywhere near enough for the kind of people he needed to frighten.

“You have to understand, the manor had been invested with bats since Bruce was a baby. They came during his mother’s pregnancy, and wouldn’t leave. Would’ve called it fate, if I believed in that sort of thing. Anyway, one through the window and that was that.” 

His fear of bats was crippling in his youth, feeding into and outperforming even his nyctophobia. It’d only been during his world travels that a perverse relationship with fear bloomed. Instead of a natural aversion, Bruce was instead invigorated by and drawn to his own nightmares. Arguably, without this victory over Phobos, vigilantism would’ve been out of the question, or entirely ineffectual. 

Then again, when the bat flew in, he’d flinched.   


Thus, that vague, formless alter of his mind took shape, enveloped him. Became him, and him It. The tenuous union of Bruce Wayne and Batman brought to fruition, for better or worse, sickness and health. Gotham’s prince became her knight, and the people who plague her haven’t slept easy since. 

“Mr. Pennyworth,” Diana said, leaning forward, “Do you remember how Mr. Grayson came into Bruce’s care?”

“How could I forget?” 

He inhaled deeply, as if the memory would come more quickly that way. 

“It certainly wasn’t planned, you know. None of it. I sent Bruce out that night purely to get his mind off things. Who doesn’t like the circus? A few hours later, he came back with a little boy.” 

“Had Bruce ever expressed a desire for children prior?” 

Alfred sucked his teeth. “No, never. Plus, we weren’t planning on keeping the boy- I wasn’t, anyway, and I made that quite clear. Just give him a place to sleep until a permanent home was found.” 

The first months In the manor were troubling for Dick. He’d felt suffocated in the cold mansion- unwelcome. Nearly all the house remained unlit, and the shadows coloring peeling walls did little to brighten his mood. He wasn’t scared of the dark, but the manor carried a strange air at that time; well kept, but not _cared for_ , inhabited but not _lived in_. Still, it offered him some reprieve- it was like the structure itself knew he was grieving, and offering a cold hand.

“I knew it was the wrong thing to do with Bruce,” Alfred said, “but I let Dick alone too. I figured he’d come out in his own time, and I didn’t want to overwhelm him.” 

It didn’t take Dick long to realize something weird was going on. He’d trek through the endless halls, if only to do _something_. One night, after a bad dream, he took to roaming the halls. Three in the morning, and he’d bumped into _Alfred_ of all people. The butler asked him what he was doing up so late, shooing him to bed. Dick had been so startled, it was only after he was laying down that it occurred to him he could’ve asked the same question. 

There were other weird things, too. Like how Bruce- an outwardly air-headed rich kid- would occasionally have bandages on his arms. How someone so stupid was constantly reading, and someone so happy around cameras could be so miserable at home. 

“Over time, he did come out more- began making conversation and such. I told Bruce he should spend more time with the boy to encourage him further.” 

The old man was contemplative. When a smile crept up his face, Dick knew what story he was going to tell. 

“I remember the first time he laughed. Master Bruce asked what his favorite food was so he could get for him. The boy said cereal, and Bruce had me buy every kind available at _three_ different stores. Next morning, we had them lined up on the counter. I don’t know what it was exactly, but he just started laughing and wouldn’t stop. After that, the Manor was...brighter.” 

He covered his mouth for a moment, again in thought. His eyes pinched some, and then he continued. 

“That was when Bruce wanted to keep him for good. I still argued not to- not with him running around in a cape and cowl at all hours, and with my age. We went at over it a couple times, but I finally gave in.”

“What swayed you?” 

The old man looked at the Amazon wearily. 

“The same thing that always sways me,” he said, “Bruce was happy.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IM ALIVE 
> 
> ugh, I am so sorry it’s taken me so long to update! I hope all of you are doing and continue to do well and stay healthy!! Thank you for your patience and continued readership!


	19. Batman and Robin

“Let’s see, the year Dick became Robin...that was the same year Harvey, um...” the old man looked down and swallowed. 

“Harvey who?” Diana asked.

“Dent.” 

“Is he someone of significance?” 

Alfred inhaled and leaned back. “I’d say so. He and Bruce were very close, very close.” He looked at Batman, almost as if asking for permission- or forgiveness. 

“They were lovers. The first and only man Bruce was ever with, to my knowledge- before, you know.” 

Dick’s eyes flickered to Batman. He could see how tense the other man was. He never knew about them being anything more than friends. 

The witness took another steadying breath. 

“I thought it’d be good for him. They were secret about it. Only met sporadically, usually with an excuse. But Bruce was happy, happier than he’d been with any woman. I thought- _hoped_ , even- that they’d stay together a long time.”

“What happened?” 

“Harvey had an accident. Horrible chemical burns, on fifty percent of his body.” Alfred tutted. “After that, his mind broke too, and even though Bruce tried to reach him, the man he loved wasn’t there anymore.”

Flash snapped up. “Do you mean...is that-“

The Bat ended his silence. “Two-Face.” 

The first person Batman had failed to save. The third person he loved and lost. For the first time, Diana’s expression softened. 

“We’ll move on. Why don’t you tell me about how Mr. Grayson took up his mantle.” 

The old man forced himself to relax. “Well, it started almost a year of Dick living with us. He opened up about everything that’d happened at the circus.”

That was an interesting dinner conversation, to say the least. Dick had realized almost immediately that his parents’ deaths weren’t accidental (although murder was a harsh label to come to terms with). His story was the same: in the hours before the Flying Graysons’ finale, a man came to talk to Uncle Haly. Dick had only caught the tail end of the conversation, but he understood immediately that the ring leader was being threatened. By the end of the night, Dick was an orphan. 

“Was that the first time Mr. Grayson had shared his side of the story?” 

“No, ma’am. He’d told the police, too. The day after it happened, when they questioned him privately.”

“And the police did nothing?”

Alfred looked with half lidded eyes at the Amazon. “If the GCPD did anything of value, there wouldn’t be a man running around dressed as a bat, would there?” 

The police officers’ faces didn’t change at all when Dick told him his side of the story. They asked some follow up questions, but even through his shock and grief, it was clear that they cared very little for two dead Gypsies. 

Bruce hadn’t asked questions that night. Instead, surprise settled into a quiet anger. His jaw locked, with one response.

_ “I’ll take care of it.”  _

And that, Dick now knew, was how he met Batman. 

“He just threw himself into the case. It was partially to take his mind off Harvey, I’m sure- but also because he saw parallels to his own life, obviously.” 

At that point, Bruce had no real expectation of finding the man who’d killed his own parents. Under no circumstances was he going to let Dick suffer the same fate. Which meant also that, when Bruce had pinned the hit on Anthony Zucco, Dick was going to have a hand in his capture. 

“We talked about it a long time,” Alfred explained, “Argued, more like. Bruce said it would be vital for the boy to see his parents’ killer brought to justice. While I agreed, I thought it was a little too early to tell him the truth. Of course, what with him living with us, it was only a matter of time before he found out anyway.” 

After Zucco was turned in, that was supposed to the end of it. Dick was just supposed be comforted by the fact justice had been served and gain closure. That’s not exactly what happened, though. 

“After, he wanted Batman to take him on as a sidekick permanently.” 

“Dick propositioned Bruce?”

“Aye. Bruce didn’t want that,” Alfred explained, “Tried to make his training as grueling as possible, in the hope that the boy would give up.” He crossed his legs and rolled his eyes before adding, “Went just about as well you’d think. Anyway, that’s how Dick ended up has Robin number one.” 

Alfred bit his cheek. “Thick as thieves after that. That’s when they started sharing a bed.” 

Diana tilted her head. “And you didn’t question that development?” 

“Sure,” The Englishman admitted, “But there’s not a damn thing that happens in that house I don’t know about.” 

“How are you so sure?” Diana pressed.

Alfred glowered at her. “Because I wash the bedsheets. Besides, which, Bruce can’t keep secrets from me, and I know when he lies.” 

“If something had happened-“ J’onn started.

“-Define ‘something’-“ Alfred snapped.

“-Sexual contact. If Bruce had attempted to have sexual contact with Mr. Grayson, what would you have done?” 

“Protected the boy, of course.”

“Which one?” 

The court was quiet for a moment. Diana spoke gently. “J’onn, that is speculation.” 

“Remove it from the record,” Captain Marvel said with a wave. “We’ve gone on for a long time, today, anyway. We pick up again tomorrow.” 

With that, court was dismissed. 


	20. Discussions

A pensive Wonder Woman was a rare sight, one that Superman found waiting for him outside Bruce’s cell. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and then made a suggestion, or a demand. 

“Let’s go somewhere private.” 

She spoke again when the door was locked. 

“Have you...been speaking to Bruce?”

Clark stared at her. He doubted Diana would actually use him just to get information on Bruce. Then again, he had no doubt Bruce would do that to her, and that his own trustfulness could be used against him, even by someone as trustworthy as Diana. 

“Not about much.”

Wonder Woman grasped her bracelets. “I mean...will you? After this is over?” 

Clark blinked. “Be his friend you mean?” 

A nod. He clenched his jaw. 

“Di, I don’t know,” he sighed, “I want to be.” 

Clark and Superman weren’t as diametrically opposed as some other alter egos- certainly not as detached as ditzy playboy Bruce Wayne was from the Dark Knight. The mild mannered reporter and the man of steel had a lot in common. They both liked helping people, finding the truth, righting wrongs and always sought to do the right thing. It wasn’t often the “right thing” to do was different for Mr. Kent and the last Son of Krypton. The last week had forced him to come to terms with the fact that his life was a balancing act, and that he isn’t quite the tightrope walker he thought he was.

Wonder Woman nodded as though she understood, but he wasn’t sure she did. Diana Prince and Princess Diana were one and the same, always. 

“I want to do right by my friend,” Clark explained, “But...we have to uphold public perception, too. I know you’re just trying to what’s best for the league-“

Diana huffed wryly. “If I wanted to what was best for the league,” she countered, “I would’ve swept this under the rug the moment I heard about it.” 

She looked at him head on. “I’m not interested in doing right by the League; I’m interested in doing right.” 

Clark chewed his lip, growing irritated. “And what does that entail? Ruining Bruce’s life?”

“I haven’t passed any judgement,” she said, indignant, “And I won’t until the trial is over. Whatever Captain Marvel’s ruling is isn’t relevant to my personal actions are.” 

“And your choices are what?” 

“What are you angry at, Kal?” 

Angry that he wasn’t going to leave this room until he made a choice. Angry that he had to choose at all. Bruce never called him Kal. That was Superman’s name. 

“I’m not going to leave my friend.” 

She let him move passed her. Her voice conveyed a quiet mourning. 

“He was my friend, too.” 

The door opened. 

“I know, Di. I know.”

———————-

“We could just order a pizza.” 

There was no way Dick was going to make Alfred cook dinner after a whole day of that bullshit. There was also no way Alfred was going to let Dick near a stove- especially not after taking the immense risk of letting him drive. The Englishmen had takeout so infrequently that his agreement could be taken as a sign of his exhaustion. 

Long silences were becoming increasingly common between the two of them. Not awkward or uneasy, per se, especially not after they’d cleared the air a couple days ago. It felt more being stuck with a friend of a friend. If Bruce were here, it would’ve been close to normal. Despite him being there for its entire development, coming out with their relationship almost felt like Dick had to start all over with Alfred. Only, instead of building a relationship, they were now redefining it. And really, what box would he fit into? Son, grandson, or just Bruce’s lover? 

Dick cleared his throat. 

“I uh..I never knew about Harvey.” 

This was really a conversation he had to have with Bruce. 

“Never wanted you to,” was the stinging reply.

“Ah. Oh.” 

Alfred side eyed him. 

“Less to do with you and more to do with Bruce himself, I think. He probably would’ve told you all about it if Harvey had died.” 

“Because he cant grieve someone who’s alive?”

“Because he can’t _worship_ him,” Alfred spat. “Bruce immortalizes the people he’s lost, but he never lets them go.”

Wayne Manor was filled with relics of Bruce’s relatives. Aunt Agatha’s grandfather clock, china closet, and a few lamps. The first time Bruce had ever lost his temper with Dick was when he shattered the parlor’s chandelier by swinging on it- it’d been installed by his grandfather. Most of the attic was taken up by chests of clothes, and Martha Wayne’s jewelry remained dutifully polished but otherwise never saw the light of day. Maybe that was why it felt so creepy. The whole place was a tomb, just without corpses. 

“When my sister Maggie died,” Alfred continued, “My favorite sister, mind you, and she didn’t have any kids either. When she went, I threw out everything. I don’t recommend that- I regret that- but I’ve lost my entire family, and I let them all go. When Jason went, Bruce wouldn’t let me do so much as empty the laundry basket.”

Dick thought he’d found a happy medium. For one, his parents didn’t have much- he could fit his clothes and family possessions in one trunk. There weren’t many objects to assign value to, and he was never of the mind that someone’s stuff meant much anyway. It was only last year that he’d gotten his old Flying Grayson’s poster framed, to protect it. He carried his parents’ memory with him everywhere, in his heart and actions- but he’d never devoted his whole life to them the way Bruce had. 

He pulled into the garage. Although Alfred had done a lot of talking, he didn’t sound like he was interested in the conversation. The man was probably just tired, but Dick decided to ask before he shut the car off.

“What’re thinking about?”

His face twisted into a noticeable frown, as if debating on whether he wanted to say anything. Alfred looked at his lap. 

“If Bruce had ever hurt you in that way...”

When Dick realized what he was referring to, he sucked his teeth. “He _didn’t_.”

“If he had,” Alfred repeated, facing him, “I would have killed him.” 

“Yea,” he said, turning the key. “I know. How do you feel about Hawaiian?” 

———————-

Kon joined him on the roof with a blanket in hand. 

“In case you get cold.” 

Tim smiled a little. The night air provided the perfect weather, but he appreciated the consideration. He bundled it up and used it as a pillow instead. 

It’d become a habit of theirs to come out here to talk under the stars. The sky was so much clearer out here, nothing like Gotham’s constant smog that made the days hot and nights brutally dark. You’d be lucky to see the moon, let alone stars.

“What’re you gonna do if they say Bruce is innocent?” 

Tim shrugged. “Dunno. I don’t know what I’ll do either way.”

“Houses are cheap out here,” Conner suggested, “Maybe we could, ya know.”

He sat up, amused. “Move in together?”

“Well, yea,” Conner said, rubbing his neck, “I mean, if you think that’s taking things too fast-“

“No,” Tim huffed, “I just...do they even know about us?” 

“Think so. Jon and Clark have probably overheard us by now. Plus, Ma is pretty good with this stuff.” 

He laid back down, and scooted closer to Conner, who wrapped an arm around him. 

“We could do it, probably,” Tim said, latching onto the idea. “I have plenty in my savings.”

“What if Bruce cuts you off?”

“It’s not from him,” He responded with notable sourness, “It’s from my parents.” 

He very specifically did not want to talk about Bruce. Nonetheless, Conner pushed the issue. 

“Do you think, um...are you ever gonna get over this?” 

“No. As far as I’m concerned, it’s like if Clark made a move with Jon.” 

Conner grimaced, and then thought about it. “Eh, I dunno- more like if Clark made a move on me.” 

“Is that better?”

“It’s not... _worse_.” 

Tim gave him a look. Conner turned red. 

“I mean like- it’s kinda the same. Like I see Jon as a little brother, and Clark is Jon’s dad but he’s not, like, _my dad_ , ya know? If that makes sense.” 

“I...guess,” Tim replied, “But Dick _did_ see Bruce as his dad. I just want him to get a hold of himself.”

Conner shrugged. “Maybe that’s what he’s trying to do.” 

He looked back up at the sky. 

“Maybe.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update! Thank you for reading!

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Kudos and comments always appreciated
> 
> Also, my commissions are open! If you’re interested, please dm me @RaveThebird or email me at thepandahero123@gmail.com 
> 
> Thank you!


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